An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness
by NeOnShArPiE
Summary: Arthur's cousin, Aislin, has been a close companion of his for a while. But when the Knights arrive, his duty and fate are set, and Aislin is left to the wind. It will take everything Arthur has to balance his life and charge. Eventual Lancelot-OC. RR pls
1. Chapter 1: An Arrival

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:**

**Chapter 1: An Arrival**

AN: This is my first King Arthur Fanfic and I sincerely hope it's as good to you as it is to me. I have thought this story out completely and now I am very anxious to see what it will be like when written out, so saying, this is the first out of many glorious chapters that I will write for this story. I also wanted to point out that though there will be romance later, this story's main focus is on Arthur and his thoughts as well as how he fights to keep everything together, even things that he disagrees with. So in saying that, here is the first chapter, enjoy!

The sun had only just begun to rise and already the summer heat was upon them. It's lavish rays of warmth wending its way through the village at Hadrian's Wall, bending around corners and sneaking into homes, and into their chambers. One such chamber was that of Arterious, the young boy who would become one of the finest warriors ever produced by Britain. He awoke peacefully and easily, stretching out his tired limbs beneath his warm fur blankets. The sun's long arms poked at his face as he stepped out of bed, and staggered slightly with drowsiness.

"OPEN THE GATE! THE LADY HAS RETURNED!" Was the call issued from the top of Hadrian's Wall.

At this annunciation, Arthur's entire being jolted with excitement, his mother had returned. Almost two months prior she had left under a flag of truce to seek out her ill sister, a Woad. It was said that she was on her deathbed and her last wish to be granted was to see her younger sibling's luminescent face, to know that she was alive and well. So Arthur's mother obliged, and set off to seek her sister out, with a caravan of Roman Calvary to protect her if need be.

Though on that glorious morning she had returned, hopefully unharmed, and would be greeted graciously by her townspeople. Arthur rushed out of the large fortress he called home, and out into the village streets all the way to the gate of their town. He fumbled his way through the crowd to be the first to see her. "Excuse me. Please move. Mo- mother!"

He found his way and rushed to the side of the enchanting woman, who had just that moment stepped out of her carriage. "Arthur, my son, how I've missed you." She bent down to wrap her loving arms around him, as if to never let him go. A few dry tears slid down her cheeks in pure happiness as she brought his face to stare directly within hers. "I've brought someone for you to meet," his mother stood allowing the opening of the carriage to be seen completely. Inside stood a young girl, not more than nine years old, with cropped blonde hair to her shoulders. Her dull gray eyes were large with awe and fascination with the village and it's people, she wrung her hands nervously. "She is your cousin, Aislin."

Arthur simply starred at her, unsure of what to do. Should he say hello, bow, or plainly stand there like a buffoon? She was unlike any of the young girls from their village, her hair had been cut to a shorter length, her face more worn and dirtied, her hands full of calloses, and her body somewhat stronger yet lanky at the same time. He could hear the gossiping whispers of his people behind him, their voices kept low as to not insult the Lady of Hadrian's Wall and her choice of playmates for her son.

"Come Aislin, this is my son, Arthur. I'm sure you two will become good companions for each other within the years to come. But now I believe it best that we head in and set a room up for young Aislin, instead of showing her the _butt of our generosity_." At those last words she glared around at the villagers and their gossiping mouths halted at once.

They parted a pathway for the three of them as if they had been royalty, a queen and her heirs. The Lady walked with dignity in her strides as she held each child's hand and made her way to her home, her sanctuary.

That night there was a discussion in the meeting hall with all the officials. "She should not have been brought here! She is a Woad, a child of our enemies!" One of the Roman soldiers shouted.

Arthur had snuck down to the entrance of the room creaking the door open slightly and watching as his mother stood at the head of the table. "She is my sister's child, her father is dead and now her mother is the same. Who is to care for her if not me? I am her only surviving relative!"

"Her own kind will raise her-."

"And tell me General Silvanus, when she grows up to be a Woad's warrior, will you hunt her down and kill her as you've done to so many other's?" The Lady had broken his sentence and was now pacing the length of the table. "Do you really think I'd allow you to slaughter my niece?" She paused, stopping at the General's chair. "We could end all of that anguish right now. I would never have to feel the loss of her at my side, she would never grow up to be a fierce fighter like her parents, you would never destroy her, and I would never suffer with heartache. Please, I beg of you, let her stay. She will be as natural as the other girls in this village."

"What of her people, won't they be upset at her being here?"

"I have spoken to their leader, he knows that I am the best person to raise her and if he can afford to save the life of even just one of his people he will do it. Do you forget so hastily that I am also of Britain? Of course he is in agreement with my decision." She brought herself to sit once again, her gown ruffling against the wood of the seat. "Now, let us move on to other subjects, shall we?"

Arthur had know his mother to be strong willed, but had never seen her argue with the Roman's as if they were scrap that must be wiped off of the table after supper.

"I will be treated differently from everyone else."

Arthur whirled around, coming face to face with Aislin herself. Her eyes peering passed him and through the crack in the door. "What? Oh, no. My mother will make sure they-."

"But they will anyway, you know this. I am not of their blood." She offered as she sat down on the cold stone floor, the hem of her dress dragging in the dust.

"So is my mother," Arthur sat down beside the girl, taking her in with every glance.

"She is different, she married your father, a Roman." Her eyes were on his, a cold stare of unhappiness built within their core. She shook her head realizing she was being rude. "She is my Aunt, and I am your cousin, at least you except this." She straightened up, gazing at him again, this time with more of a pleading hope. "Don't you?"

He gathered his thoughts; his mentor had always taught him that every man is equal. But then isn't it equally true also for women, his thoughts were yes. "Yes, I do."

"Good, then your mother was right about us. We shall become close companions in the future." After that she gave a minute grin before running off down the corridor. Thus beginning the circle of friendship Arthur would fight to keep going through all his years of life.

AN: This chapter to me was a good way to start off, slow but with good elements and feelings. I can't wait to see your reactions, so please review… it's the hip thing to do! LOL, anyway I'll post the next chapter sometime soon. Till then, ta!


	2. Chapter 2: The Weight of Emotions

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness**

**Chapter 2: The Weight of Emotions:**

AN: Yay! Off of school today due to snow. On another note I would like to thank my reviewers, you are kind. I am so glad that you have taken a liking to my story and are forced to ask questions. That at least lets me know that you're intrigued enough to ponder the outcome. One group of questions, submitted by Dazzler420, asked about Aislin and whether she would grow to be a warrior and how Arthur would react to her after his mother's death (due to the Woads). Well as I have stated in the first chapter this story deals with how Arthur tries to balance his life, so yes there will be conflict between him and Aislin due to the fact that she is a 'warrior at heart' and because she is a woman (that will come up later as she grows up and learns what it is to 'lust and love'). And I believe some of her true character comes through in this chapter, but not so much because she is still only a child. I hope that answered some of you questions, if not let me know and I'll try to explain it better.

The next morning Aislin awoke in a soft fur bed that was not her own, in a place foreign to her knowledge. She rubbed her heavy eyes frustratingly, trying her best to rid herself of the exhaustion that was sweeping over her. After a few moments she gave up and merely gazed out the open window within her chamber, she had a clear view of the forest, with all of its lush life springing into motion at the first drop of dew. How she longed to be there, running over fallen tree trunks and sprinting with the doe, bathing in the streams and climbing the walls of boulders piled high above her head. But what she missed most was her mother.

Before she could surface from her thoughts, her tears had already begun to fall. They rolled down the length of her read cheeks dropping down onto her covers where they proceeded to leave invisible stains. There was a soft knock at the door, and in a furry of embarrassment, she began rubbing her face raw of watermarks. "com-come in!" She belted out in a non-lady like manner.

The door opened and there stood the elegant mistress of the fort, Arthur's mother. Her eyes were a warm brown with green flecks towards the center, her long locks of chestnut hair hung to her lower back, swaying to and fro as she walked towards the young girl. "Aislin, my dear, have you been crying?"

"N- no milady, I haven't cried." She paused giving a semi- grin as she realized it was painstakingly obvious that she had indeed been crying. "Yes," she divulged, "I was thinking of my mother. I miss her. I miss the way we would run through the woods racing each other, the way she would hold me while she sang, her voice as it whispered goodnight to me, and her face. I will never see that face again!" At this her whole body sunk into her aunt's arms, tears flowing from her eyes as sobs bellowed from her lips, her entire being shook with pain.

"Shh, hush child." Her voice was no more than a whisper. "Your mother is safe now, she is free." Her voice quivered, and she tilted her head back to avoid having her own tears falling.

A calm, unwavering wind blew through the room. It carried the dawn of a new day and the sweet scent of wild flowers on its back. The Lady closed her eyes gently, "Ladiah," her sister's name wiping away her fear of sorrow. Her smile widened, and she began to sing a song of their heritage, a song of the Woads.

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The rest of the morning Aislin's aunt took her on a tour of the grounds, explaining to her who some of the important people were and introducing her to a few. Though most did not agree, or even take kindly to Aislin's presence at the garrison. But both women grew to ignore it, it was something that the people of Hadrian's Wall would have to learn to accept.

After the afternoon lunch, Aislin was free to wonder the barracks as she pleased, and being left alone without a guide she intended to seek out all of the sights she could. Her sandal-clad feet tapped their way down the corridors as she meandered about, taking in everything from the particular flower in the garden to the marble statue in the meeting hall. It was only when she reached the courtyard did she halt her search.

"Come Silvanus, just one more round. I'm sure I'll get farther this time!" Arthur was practicing swordsmanship with the General himself.

Their wooden blades clashed together twice before Arthur was caught off guard and the splintered sword tip placed under his chin. "You have much to learn, my son, though you are improving with each and every day." Silvanus' voice was that of many weathered years in battle, perhaps too many for him to truly take any pleasure out of the latter part of his life. He reached down and snatched up his helmet and cloak before stating his farewells and following on with his own schedule.

"Pelagius, won't you give it a try?" Arthur pleaded with his mentor.

"No, no. I am not a military man, a simple schooling teacher is all." He paused as he stood from his seat, his face turning up to greet me on the balcony. "Besides, I believe we have an audience and I would hate to spoil her entertainment by not performing a lunge correctly."

The boy whirled around, his eyes illuminated with surprise and excitement. "Aislin, won't you join?"

Her face went pale, she had been shown briefly how to use a sword, but 'twas not the custom here for a woman to wield a weapon. "Oh, uh I couldn't, I don't know how." She lied for she did not wish to be persecuted for that as well as being of another heritage.

"Come down, it is not that difficult. I'll show you." His face was that of a pleading sort.

"Child, it is a simple game, come. It will not cause any harm on your behalf, I assure you." Pelagius must not only have been a mentor but a mind reader as well, for he correctly guessed her thoughts.

She submitted, why put up an argument when you had not a good opposition to present. Aislin entered the courtyard, the hem of her gown scrapping across the cobblestone as she walked.

"Here, take this one. It is the lighter of the two and it will be easier for you to move with." Arthur offered the sword and she immediately grasped it. "Now keep your legs spread apart so that you can have room to move. All right now that that is done," he looked to Pelagius to make sure he was teaching right before continuing. "Let's begin."

He made a straight lunge toward her, which she blocked but nearly fell over. As she hobbled on one foot to gain balance, Arthur charged again. This time instead of blocking she merely stepped away and tripped him.

"You cheated, you're only supposed to use your sword." The boy scolded.

"Well it's not my fault you tripped over my foot." At this Pelagius laughed and Aislin believed that she had made her first of companions in this world of Romans.

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Weeks passed carelessly, and slowly but surely the blue paint of the Woads became part of Aislin's past as the Roman gowns and customs shaped her future. She spent most of her time with Arthur and Pelagius, as Pelagius had agreed that as long as Aislin was capable of retaining the information he would be willing to teach it to her right alongside Arthur. And as the weeks turned into months more and more of the townspeople found it easier to look upon Aislin with a smile, now that she was taking on the appearance of a Roman.

There were several times when the Roman Calvary would be sent to seek out a specific town that had needed aid against the Woads. This Aislin had grown to ignore, they were her people once but they had given her up to the Romans. What right had she to protect their skins if they did not care for hers'?

But she looked to the better times, to when she was free to roam. Her and Arthur had become close companions, they had both shared loss and they both shared hope and courage. Which is inevitably what would keep them together. They occupied themselves with horse riding, swimming, and swordplay. Things Aislin took care to keep as childish as possible, for if the Roman's believed her capable of actual swordsmanship or any harm toward their beliefs, she would be as good as dead. Though this thought stayed buried in the back of her mind, she was young and she had a free spirit as did Arthur.

Then one day a simple meeting had changed everything for the two children. "What is it Pelagius?" Arthur asked with curiosity.

"The council has decided to call upon the Sarmatians to bring fourth knights for our cause." His eyes scanned past the children and on to the setting sun. Summer had gone and now fall was upon them, its deepening chill burring itself within their very bones.

"What cause?" His voice bleak, for he had already known what the cause would be, to keep the Woads at bay, to force back Aislin's kind, his kind.

"Precautions against the- the-."

"Woads?" Aislin finally had found her voice.

"Yes, against the Woads." He moved forward placing his hands on both the children's heads before kneeling down in front of them. "You two have learned a great deal through me, more so than even some of the Roman leaders. You've learned equality. You've learned to care for your fellow man," he shifted to face Aislin, "and woman. These are things you will need to attain in this world. Spread that message, you are the children of a new era and through you, both of you, many will learn to accept this. I have no doubt in my mind that you both will become very important leaders for this country. You simply have to follow your hearts and make the right choice."

"Will you not stay with us, Pelagius?" Arthur's eyes brimmed with heated tears.

"No," he shook his head, "I have much more teaching to do in Rome. They need someone whose mind is clear and so I must go. But you Arthur, you must stay here and lead these people to the light of God. It is your duty to lead these knights, to become their commander. And you Aislin must stay to keep Arthur's mind straight. You two do well for each other, like brother and sister."

"I will miss you," Arthur leaned over and hugged Pelagius, and Aislin followed suit.

"And I shall miss you both. But do not fret I do not leave tomorrow. When the knights have finally arrived, my duty here will be fulfilled and then I shall leave. But not until then." He gave one last tight squeeze before standing and grinning down at them. "Now, I believe it is time for supper. Shall we?" He gestured toward the dinning hall and they walked on, chins held high in protest of their feelings.


	3. Chapter 3: The Comforts of Home are No M...

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:**

**Chapter 3: The Comforts of Home are No More**

AN: Hello there! Thanks for the reviews, love you all. I'm sorry about you not being able to be off school, je suis une pizza, that kind of sucks. As far as your concerns, trust me when I say that I have run into those problems before. I am in no way going to push my character to be a goddess or a super hero warrior. But as you pointed out it is a part of her and at a certain point she will fight. Though I will do it tactfully and make sure it is not pulled out of context, there will be proper reasoning behind it. Also I hadn't planned on making her that beautiful because I didn't want her to really stand out, she will have pretty aspects about her but since this is way before cosmetic surgery and most make up, she will be normal. Maybe even a few scars will be added, some that simply come with time. Also since you requested the correct pronunciation, I will give you it:

Aislin – (A- slynn) Aslinarea ( a name I later make up in this chapter)- (A- slynn- air- ea) and lastly: Acacia (Arthur's mother; I couldn't find her name mentioned anywhere so I gave her a name) – (A- case- eea)

And lastly, but certainly not the least, in response to SpectralLady's question, I believe it was Pelagius because Arthur states that he took the place of his father. All the same I will check it out as soon as my cousin returns my dvd. Thanks again for your reviews, there is another note at the bottom of the chapter that may answer your questions for this chapter so please read it as well. Thanks!

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Three seasons had passed since a scribe had been sent to Rome with our request, and nine months had passed since his return with our blessing. Roman legions were immediately sent out on the long road to Sarmatia to search for as many knights as possible. On this day everything would change.

"Vanora! Come Velora, aren't you going to race?" Aislin stood, breathless, at the bottom of a large pillar, her gown roping around her legs with every wisp of the wind. The girl was in a cheerful state, her mind set on her birthday, not three days ago.

Vanora, a young girl around her fourteenth year, was standing on the grass just beside the wall. She had noticed something not far off and urged Aislin to come have a look with her. "What do you suppose it is?" Her long tendrils of warm chestnut hair whipped in and out of her petite, sun kissed face.

"Don't know." Aislin pondered the thought for a moment. The ten year old had found that Vanora enjoyed asking her questions that she already knew the answer to just to see if Aislin could figure it out. "The caravan of Sarmatian Knights?"

"You are a witty child, aren't you?" Her voice was the tune of bird's songs, so rhythmic and peaceful. Aislin admired her for her beauty and devotion to life, and though Vanora was only fourteen, Aislin dreamed that one day she would grow to be a lovely woman like her.

The two girls backed away from the gate and stood on the side of the path to watch the future knights enter the fortress. Vanora watched with amazement and the giddiness of a young girl with passion on her mind and deep within the swell of her chest. But Aislin watched with horrified eyes that brimmed on tears, to her these knights were a bad omen on her life. Though she only knew of half the damage they would inflict upon her and Arthur's humble lives.

To her these knights were here to rip her mentor away from her, to destroy her people, and become the ruthless overseers of this garrison, with Arthur as their Commander. He would change, she knew this, but would she?

"My ladies, it is not safe for you outside of these walls, please come inside." A Roman Legion on horseback gestured toward the gate, but they held their ground.

"We shall follow the caravan in," Vanora's response was as carefree and breezy as the wind on that day. She had waited for this day too long to not see the, in her opinion, handsome knights that would be her protectors.

"Very well, milady." He rode on without some much as another word to them.

One by one the knights filed in, each one possessed an air about them that was different from any other boy Aislin had seen before. They weren't arrogant, arrogant she had met before; they were determined. Which could be the most dangerous aspect of all, determined means they won't give up, won't stop until they've reached what duty they need done, no matter what that duty may be. She watched, starred at their faces as they rode in, each one solid and cold like a stone.

These boys, who were not more than five years older than her, frightened her out of her very skin. How is it Vanora could be so pleasant about the situation? One knight in particular had given her soul a twist, his eyes deep set and his hair ragged around his face. This boy must have been atleast five years her predecessor, for he was tall and already had begun to balk, his hands grasped tightly around the reigns of his horse. She imagined the horror that would come and felt her sights fall to the ground for fear he would strike her with his very eyes.

The last of the knights floated past them, leaving Vanora with a charming grin, and continued his path through the archway. It was now their turn to move inside, though Aislin found her feet routed deep within the earth. "Aislin, come. The knights have gone, let us go now too." Vanora lifted Aislin's chin slowly, taking in the girl's sickly appearance. "Is something the matter, are you ill?"

"Aislin! Aislin!" Arthur came bounding up the hill towards them, his mother and her maids entering through the gate beside them.

The girl's heart took a leap as she faced her fiery cousin. She need not ask a single thing for he blurted out everything before she could even greet him. "The knights, did you see them? I am to be their Commander. Just as my father was." He took a breath before continuing. "Oh Aislin, we will protect this place and make it just. Can you see the outcome? Pelagius says that we can make the world equal and perfect. He said that it all starts with us here, and him in Rome."

There was an eerie silence that had fallen between them. Neither one had even thought to mention Pelagius returning to Rome since the day the meeting had commenced. Arthur was the first to break the heart wrenching quiet. "Pelagius is leaving now. I've said my farewells, but he still wishes to see you. He's at the-." But he need not say a word; Aislin could see her mentor, her friend at the top of the hill, his donkey just beside him.

At this she did a very childish thing, her hand flew up in a wave goodbye. She watched for a fraction of a moment as his arm raised to give the same signal before she took off at a sprint through the gate. Tears ran from her eyes, staining her cheeks red with heat of anger and sorrow.

"Aislin wait!" Vanora called to the child. It was no use to try and stop her for Arthur had already taken off after her. So Vanora stood alone at the great gate watching in her own depression.

Aislin's feet did not give up, they did not give way as her mind raced across her emotions trying to sort everything out. She became so frustrated with herself that she hadn't even noticed the rut in the ground, and before she knew it, she was flat on her stomach in dirt. Her face was red with panic, and her heart heavy with the burden of life. Tears dropped to the dirt creating little mud puddles, she tried her best to dust the dirt off of her gown but gave up only when it began to create a dust cloud.

She could hear the faintest of laughter and looked up to see the stables lined with knights, some watching her and others going about their own business. A few were snickering but were quickly hushed up by one, the one knight she had feared the most. His frozen eyes starred out at her sending chills up her spine as she sat in terror.

"Aislin!" Arthur slid down on the dirt next to her checking her over to make sure she hadn't hurt herself. "Are you all right?" Her face was blank, emotionless; her eyes were focused on the looming knight. Arthur followed her gaze and stepped in front of her to pull her from the ground. "Come cousin, let us go in."

Her body moved without her command, she was in a haze and on the verge of passing out. Arthur had warned her that this day would come, he told her not to worry for everything would be set in to balance once more. He was wise for his age and she found it easy to believe every audible word that sprang from his lips.

The startling knight returned to the inner confines of the stable. "Tristan, have you found yourself a little friend?" Another knight had called out to him, a knight with a pudgy face and shinning locks of amber hair.

"That girl is Artorius Castus' cousin, the kin of our future Commander. She is a Lady of this foreign place, perhaps you should show some respect, yea?" His voice was deep but playful at the same time. The knight who posed the question gave a rye smile and left it alone.

"She tripped, it isn't our fault it was ungraceful and humorous," another had called out, his face jovial and his eyes dancing about as if they were fireflies.

"Yes well I'd like to see you trip in a gown and try to look graceful." He retorted his eyes cold as he glared toward the opposing knight.

"You speak as if you have tried this act before, Tristan." The same Sarmatian recoiled, stepping out from the darkened stall and revealing his full appearance. A crop of black tangled curls hung from his head with a squared off face and a pointed nose protruded from the shadows.

"Some of us are not as familiar with women as others of us I suppose, Lancelot." Tristan broke his conversation with the irking knight. "I'm heading up to the dinning hall for food, follow if you are hungry, stay if you'd rather sleep with the livestock." At this he strode out of the back of the stable and followed the lead of two Roman Legions to the decorated chamber.

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"Aislin, we will see him again some day." Arthur sat on the far corner of her bed as she tucked her face behind a pillow in her stubbornness.

Her voice was muffled by the pillows over her face, but was still audible. "No we won't."

"Yes we will, I've already sworn to him that once my reign over these knights is complete, I will venture my way down to Rome and seek him out." He offered, as though this would brighten her mood.

"And how long will that be? When you're on your death bed thirty years from now?" She shouted, although her voice was still suppressed by the pillow.

"No, only fifteen years," Arthur stated brightly.

There was a loud snort of disgust that came from bellow the cushion of goose feathers. "Only fifteen! Only!"

"Will you stop being so melancholy and get up!" He grabbed the pillow that lay beside him, "we have things to do now… COME ON!" At his words he hit her directly in the butt with the soft cushion.

She jumped out of her safe haven of heavenly headrests, and starred bewilderedly at her cousin as he laughed. Her gray eyes narrowed into little slits, full of furry. "Why you evil little sprite… PREPARE FOR YOUR DOOM!" She quickly armed herself with two of her very own pillows.

"No my lady, you prepare for yours'!" They lunged at each other, whacking pillows every which way, and soon enough feathers began to fly. They continued their dueling as they shouted war cries and threats to each other.

"I shall win this battle, and then in honor of my people I shall place your head upon the great Hadrian's Wall!" Aislin screamed out.

"Yes well I am here to say that I will be the one undefeated! I will prevail! And then I shall drag your corpse behind my horse so that all may see the power I have vested in me!" Arthur burst out a semi- menacing laugh, more along the lines of a gurgle.

"You are a worthy opponent, King Artorius of the Great Wall!"

"As are you, Queen Aislinarea of the battle hungry Woads!" At this they both released their monstrous war cries so loud that it threaten to shatter the looking glass in the corner.

Arthur's mother burst through the doorway, her heart racing from running up the numerous stairs. "What, in the Lord Almighty's name, is going on here?" She stopped and took a breath while the children swiftly hid the pillows behind themselves and tried snatching up as many feathers as possible. "I thought you were being tortured or some ungodly thing had occurred to you, plague or something."

The children were silent, for fear of exposing too much of the truth. Though in all honesty, with the feathers lining the floor and the pillows bulging from behind their backs, it wasn't hard to decipher. Nonetheless, they stood there silent as ghosts with smug smirks forming on their faces.

The panic stricken woman relaxed and released a sigh, "you two have work that needs to be done. We have many guests for supper, you will help serve." She stopped them before they could completely exit the room, "we will discuss _this_ later, for now I'll see if I can find some more pillows for Aislin, and you will help downstairs."

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Once downstairs the two troublemakers were given their orders and made to distribute food and drink right beside many of the servants and Vanora. Aislin was too occupied with fearing the knights and dishing out food to even think about her absent companion, Pelagius.

"Is she all right now? I mean she's feeling better, right?" Vanora asked in a hushed whisper to Arthur as she walked by with a platter of food.

"Oh, yes. She's doing just fine now." He nodded swiftly, trying to stay away from the subject for his own sorrowed reasons.

"Good," she gave a wide tooth grin before turning to leave.

"Vanora!" She turned once more to face him. "Don't mention anything about Pelagius to her, please? I'm afraid she'll become upset again." The young woman nodded and sauntered back to the dinning hall, plate lopsided in her arms.

An older serving maid stepped up behind Arthur and spoke with cheerful delight in her voice. "She is going to drop that platter of wonderful food on purpose to get every knight at that tables attention. My guess is she'll drop it just behind that curly topped one. What was his name?" She pondered for a moment. "Lancelion? Languceloo? Lancener? Lance-."

"Lot?" Arthur finished for her.

"Yes, that's it. I'll bet she'll drop it right behind him. She's had her eye on him all night, said he smiled at her earlier." Arthur gazed at the old woman with skepticism. "You watch, and you'll see what I mean."

And sure enough just before Arthur entered the room, he heard the crash of the ceramic plate smash against the stone floor. He opened the door and was surprised to see that it was Aislin bent on the ground picking up the broken shards and humbly gathering them into her arms. Arthur took in every ounce of the scene. Vanora was on the other side of the table scowling at Aislin, no doubt for taking her idea, even though it was most likely not done on purpose. Just beside her was seated the knight Lancelot, his grin growing by the moment, and on the floor in front of Arthur, not only had the other two serving girls come over to help, but a knight as well.

"Please forgive me, I am a clumsy little girl." Aislin's voice was quiet and her eyes were down cast as she brought together the broken pieces. The two young ladies beside her mumbled their blessings and hastily dispensed of the food. Arthur moved forward, as ushered by Vanora, and began pouring the wine.

"Clumsy is an understatement," the young Lancelot muttered beneath his breath.

As this reached Arthur's ears he couldn't help but move the pitcher sideways and dump most of the wine onto the Sarmatian's lap. "Oh, my apologies sir, I didn't know that animals had a seat at this table!" His trembling voice bellowed.

The room had fallen silent, except for the laughter that came from the knight crouched on the floor. His eyes brimmed with pleasure at this young man's expense, "I told you that you should mind your tongue and respect them." He gazed at the young girl who was crouched in front of him, her fingers gaining scratches with every piece added to her pile. "You are not clumsy," he whispered and took the broken scraps from her.

"Is this how you treat your guests here?" The heated Sarmatian's words sliced through the room.

"Shower honor on my children and I will shower honor on you." Aislin's aunt had entered the room undetected and glared at the knight who so boldly challenged her place of birth. Aislin was taken aback, _her children, she considered me her child as well?_ "But until then you will sleep with the animals. Out to the stables with you!"

"But Acacia, please!" Vanora pleaded helplessly.

"Hush child, this is not your discussion." Acacia, Arthur's mother, breathed her words defiantly. Her mind was completely set on her decision.

The knight left in a mad rush, speaking foul curses as he exited. He has such a hot temper for a young man. "Now, continue with feasting. I will have the lute player come in shortly."

Aislin numbly sat on the floor watching as the Sarmatian, whom earlier scarred her out of her wits, eagerly placed the sections of ceramic on an empty plate to be carried away, and dispensed of. "Thank you."

His cold, hollow brown eyes gazed at her, and then he did something she did not expect. He grinned, not a very bright grin, not even wide just a simple smirk, but it was enough to make her smile in return. He handed her the plate and went back to his seat without another word.

Arthur stood in the corner and watched, his mind floating over so many things. How is it these knights, though honorable they would become, and close they must be, could inevitably be so different? One would dare mock a young girl for sport, while the other would treat her as an equal maybe even someone of greater rank. This baffled him.

-------

AN: Yes I know, Lancelot came across very rude and arrogant. I'm sorry if this offended any of you. I do love his character, he is so fun and open, but I felt that he would need to be rude and arrogant in this chapter. Mainly I believe this because he was just ripped away from his homeland to fight for foreigners and would not return for another fifteen years, if he survives. Of course he would be snippy and rude, I would. I know it seemed like none of the others are, mostly due to the fact that I've only mention three so far. In the next chapter the others will be introduced and you will get a taste of their feelings as well. Now for Tristan, he wasn't rude because it is simply not in his character to say anything quite like that. He believes it is his duty to be there, it is a privilege and though he may not like it, he deals with it and does it without complaint. No there will not be future romance between Tristan and Aislin; his kindness towards her has a reason and a purpose, which I will reveal in the next chapter. Oh, and Arthur, though he does grow to be good friends with Lancelot, was merely defending his cousin. Plus I thought it would be interesting to start them out disliking each other. So I think that covers anything you might have questions about, but if you should have more feel free to ask. I don't mind answering them. Please review, and thanks for your past reviews. Ta!


	4. Chapter 4: Tension

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness**

**Chapter 4: Tension**

AN: Thank you all for your glorious reviews. I love you all. I don't believe there were any questions so, without further ado I present to you, chapter four.

-

Arthur fell asleep just outside the villa on a stone slab. The morning was cloudy and dank; there hadn't been a warm breezy day since the Sarmatians had arrived. It seemed this country was determined to wash its self of foreigners and the wars they brought with them.

The young boy stood, and rubbed the back of his neck feverishly before following the worn path back to the courtyard. The following day after the knights had arrived, they immediately began their battle training. This was Arthur's downfall; he had been taught how to use a sword, but these Sarmatians brought with them techniques from their own land, techniques Arthur could not dream of besting. And so he trudged on for another lesson in bewilderedness.

He passed by the barn on his way, and ignored the sinister glare issued to him by Lancelot. The knight simply stood in the center of the entrance, his sword strapped to his back, watching the young Commander as he passed by with the least of interest in his presence. Arthur continued on his way without so much as a backward glance.

Arthur entered the courtyard and watched as the thirteen other knights paired up and sparred with each other, using their wooden weapons to their advantage as they would sometimes slap or hit each other with it just for sport. He picked up his own sword from the rack on the side and realized there was someone standing to his right. His eyes trailed, following the wall first, then it's crack, and finally landing on the smirking knight.

"Looks like it will be us who duel today." Lancelot obviously received a certain amount of pleasure out of this aspect.

The young boy didn't even glance around to check for stragglers, he knew it wouldn't matter; he wanted to fight Lancelot anyway. "So it does." They made their way to an unoccupied space to the side and began.

The loud echo of the wooden swords clashing had arisen Aislin and her new roommate, Vanora. After dressing they walked down the length of the balcony and watched the sparring with their own eyes. Aislin was taken by the fighting styles and the strength each knight possessed. It was as if there had been a rebellion and now there was a little mini battle, taking place right before her very eyes. She had never seen war before, so this was as real to her as anything.

Vanora cried out joyfully when her sights had finally fallen on Lancelot. All Aislin ever heard about was how wonderful he was, how noble, and caring. But Aislin thought none of these things about him; he was rude, ignorant, and deceptive. Poor Vanora had fallen for his act and now she was beginning to irk the ten year old with her girlish giggles.

"Look Aislin, come on I swear I won't rave on like I did before. Please just look! Look at who he is battling!" Vanora dragged Aislin to the edge of the balcony and forced her to look.

"Arthur," her heart tightened in her chest. Ever since the first supper the knights were given here, not more than a month ago, Arthur had taken it upon himself to loathe Lancelot enough for the both of them. Why? Aislin was not sure, it was not as if he had time to speak with his cousin any more, so why he still protected her interests when the event had long died out, she could not know.

The two boys lunged at each other, wood splintered as the swords clashed. Arthur continually blocked the blows not wanting to put down his guard for a second lunge. But on the last block all his balance went to the wind and he fell backwards into the dirt. The eleven year old moved to the side just fast enough to escape Lancelot's plunging sword. He whacked the edge of the sword right to the back of the knight's knee, causing him to drop to the ground.

Lancelot grabbed Arthur's ankle just as he was about to stand up and brought him crashing to the ground. Arthur grasped his sword and swung it at the older fighter who pushed his wrist down, pinning him to the dirt. Aislin's cousin struggled against the weight but found that he was stuck. He did the only thing he could think of doing, and raised his knee to the other boy's groin, successfully removing his weight and allowing Arthur an escape. The eleven year old placed the sword to the knight's neck in forced submission.

But the young one did not pay attention to the sword aimed at his heart. Though Lancelot was slightly doubled over, he was still able to raise his sword to Arthur. "That's enough boys! We are all on the same side here! Let us not forget that." General Silvanus had interrupted the dispute before it continued on. "Lessons are over for today!"

One by one the knights departed, dropping their swords at the rack as they left. Aislin and Vanora made their way down the stairs and into the courtyard, their eyes fixed on the two boys who now were putting away their swords. "Arthur!" Aislin ran to her cousin and embraced him warmly. Her face was buried in his shoulder so she did not have to look upon Lancelot, whose eyes were no doubt scowling at the two children.

Vanora stood alone at the other end of the courtyard. Her eyes swam back and forth between the two children and the boy who caused her heart to leap at every glance. Were they doomed to always butt heads? For she was a servant in Lady Acacia's villa and could not dishonor her mistress with her youthful love no matter how much she knew she would enjoy it.

Then he left, and the small mental dispute within her mind was over. She smiled and walked her own way, for today her heart was her own, but tomorrow will always be another day.

The two children still remained; Aislin still wrapped within her cousin, more support on her own behalf than his. She slowly removed herself and gazed into his floating hazel eyes. "Come Arthur, let us go." Her voice was strong and filled with joy. Aislin's cousin was back at her side, perhaps he would still befriend her and they could carry on as they used to.

"No," he stated bitterly, "you may go." His eyes became dark and apprehensive.

"Arthur?" Aislin's breathing became wavered; _was he really telling me to leave?_ "Arthur, you can pick a fight with that stubborn cow another day, come. Your mother will want to-."

"I'm not talking about the stubborn cow, you may go." Aislin stepped away from him in disbelief. "You embarrassed me, Aislin, right here in front of my future knight!"

"It was Lancelot, what does he care if I hug you? I am your cousin, is it unusual that I should hug you? Your mother does, why can't I?" She shot back, her mind tumbling over these thoughts.

"It was not just the hug, the way you went about it. You came running out here as if I was lucky to survive. You babied me as if I couldn't do it. You did this right here in front of him, the one who I hate."

"I hate him too!" She cried hoping that her pain might allow him to see that she cared.

"Not like I do. You are a girl. You will never learn swordsmanship and be able to defend yourself against him. It is up to me, a boy to defend the females and our country. How can I do that if you are around?"

"I get it," the girl turned and ran. If she were older there were words she would have shared, words she would have cried out in a scream. She would have been wise about the act; she knew she would have bested him. How could he ask her to become invisible, to drop off the face of this earth? She was too hurt now for these unthinkable ramblings that would come to her with age, so instead she bolted on, and dropped herself somewhere in between depression and love.

-

"Silvanus, she has not returned yet and it is after dark." Acacia fumbled in her words; a single tear fell onto the fabric of her dress staining it with invisible ink. "Please find her, I need to know that she is safe."

Arthur leaned against the cold frame of his door listening to the distress in his mother's voice. He had caused it, he caused it all and he knew it, yet he could not bring himself to help. Aislin had no right to have acted the way she did, he was not a child, he was a warrior to be. He could not be her companion and still be a wise commander, not when he was in charge of knights older than himself. He must out do them, had she not seen this? No, he would not help, not with all the stubbornness of a young adolescent coursing through his veins. He shut his door and ignored his mother's voice.

-

"Did you see the old man? The way he jumped when he saw the animal?" A knight offered, his laughter jovial and yet obnoxious. Another remarked on their practical joke and joined in the joyful bellows.

Aislin stiffened and hid herself in the shadow of the alleyway, whilst muffling her sobs. The two young knights continued to carry on in their laughter not even noticing the girl who tried stealthily to leave out of the back of the alley. She crept her way down the stone path, checking over her shoulder every now and then to make sure that they hadn't caught her. One of the knights released a ferocious laugh that startled her and she bumped directly into a clay pot. It tipped over and crashed against the stone.

"Bors, did you here that?" The knight asked as he scanned the alleyway for any sign of life. His eyes caught a glimpse of the girl, but before he could remark she had taken off down the path.

He chased after her, ignoring the calls from his companion, Bors. He thumped down the path dodging miscellaneous things that cluttered his path. "Please stop! I want to talk to you!" He breathed inhaled sharply before shouting out to the girl once more. "You're the girl Aislin, are you not? Artorius' cousin?"

At this Aislin stopped and caught her breath, he knew her name. "Who are you?" She questioned in reply.

He moved up closer to her, his height towering over the young girl. "I'm Gwain, we knights were asked to keep a lookout for you. The Roman's said you had run off and feared you would try to return to the woods."

She became deathly silent; she had never spoken of her Woad heritage to anyone other than Arthur and her aunt Acacia. She decided to change the subject. "I suppose you'll be returning me to the villa, to my aunt?" She spoke humbly, her eyes never making contact with his.

"Don't you want to go back? You have royalties many would die to own. You have a family that worries about you and servants who serve you, you live like a queen, Lady Aislin of the great wall." He remarked with all.

At this she looked him straight in the eyes, he was trying to bribe her into returning, bribing her with things that she had already owned and accepted. "No, I do not wish to return." Aislin stated flatly. "The only one there who cares for my well being is my aunt. The Lady and Mistress of this wretched place. Everyone else would rather me gone." At his dumbfounded expression she continued, "for what I am, for the people I came from. They only have me here because I am my aunt's blood, Arthur's blood."

"You believe no one wishes you here? Not even your cousin?" Gwain repeated as if he could not believe these words.

"No, he says I am an embarrassment to him." She admitted halfheartedly.

"Well, Lady Aislin, in that case I have a proposition for you." Her interest had been peaked and she listened intently. "Why not stay with me and a few of the other knights for one night. If no one comes calling for you or there is no fuss over your disappearance then you were right and if you so wish, you may leave. But if there is fuss over you, if there is worry and grief you will return to the villa, to a family of aristocrats that love you. What do you say?"

"Am I safe with you, or is it better for me alone?"

He smiled, "child you have already won the protection of Tristan, you are safe."

-

"Now, stay right here. I'll go get Tristan and Bors will stay with you." Gwain informed the ten year old. "Bors make sure nobody sees her, if they do then we have no other choice than to hand her over and then our agreement will be over. So watch over her." The boy called Bors nodded. "Oh and make sure Lancelot does not see her, he cannot know or we're done for. He will rat us out and have our backs skinned just because of her." With that stated he entered the stable in hopes of finding his older comrade.

Aislin stood in the cool night air, her cape wrapped tightly around her body for warmth. "So you're the Woad girl?" She was caught off guard by Bors blunt comment.

At first she was apprehensive about his tone, but then she realized he was simply curious, so she let her temper fall. "Yes."

"What's it like over there, are they savages? Do they kill for sport?" His chubby head was bent towards her, his words spoken in a whisper.

Aislin merely glared at him for loss of words. Not to mention the distaste of his choice of vocabulary. She watched as his slit of a mouth rolled back into a disgusting grin. "I bet they are savages. Should be interesting foes."

"You speak as though you've fought battles before." Tristan had appeared from the stable, his sharp eyes landed on Aislin, and he gave her the briefest of smiles before returning his interest to Bors. "Stop trying to impress the girl. You're not intimidating her one bit, only irking her to the point of exhaustion."

"We've decided to keep Aislin hidden from the people of this garrison until tomorrow." Gwain explained, doing his best to move on to more important matters. "If there is distress over her absence she will return to her family, if there is not then she is free to leave with our assistance."

Tristan paced between the three conspirers, taking in the whole of the situation. He looked to Aislin for her agreement on this topic, and she nodded. "Why?" He asked in a hushed voice.

"I don't think you'd understand," she replied her voice equally low.

"Come with me," he motioned for her to follow him into the stable. When the other two preceded to follow he shook them away and continued to lead Aislin further into the dwelling.

"What of Lancelot? Isn't he in here?" She posed, remembering what Gwain has said.

"No," Tristan shook his head, his uneven hair shifting around his face. "He left, probably for the night." He turned at a stall and halted, nudging Aislin to come forward an see what as behind it. "This is Kade," the beauty of this magnificent beast amazed the ten year old. The horse's white coat was dappled with gray spots, and it's eyes were as dark as the night sky. Her fingers felt their way over the horse's snout, and she rubbed under it's chin, his whiskers ticking the palm of her hand.

"He is marvelously tame, and he rides as if he were a king." Tristan remarked at the perfections of his horse with such awe and wonder that Aislin was baffled. How could she have ever thought that this boy, this young man, would be so much of a danger to her? How could she have ever been afraid of him? "He had been my sister's horse before mine." She snapped awake at the melancholy nature of his statement.

"She rode this horse with every chance she had, she was in love with him. I taught her how to ride him, I watched as she took care of him and pet him, as you are doing now."

"If she loved him so much, why did she give him over to you?" Aislin scratched the beast behind his ears and smiled as he nudged her in return. But with one glance up at Tristan she knew that his sister hadn't given the Kade to him. He had been talking in past tense and she hadn't even accounted for the mood of his statements. "Oh, she's-."

"Dead, yes." He paused, swallowing the ball that seemed to be stuck in his throat. "She had become ill just before her tenth birthday. She struggled for weeks with the fever, she always had a strong will to live. But eventually it took her." He shook his head desperately trying to rid himself of the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. He had always been perceived as a strong young man, and he did not want to breakdown in front of this young girl and change that perception of himself forever.

"I'm sorry," Aislin was at a loss for words. What could she do?

"No, I tell you this because you remind me so much of her. You should not run away from the ones who love you, even if the weight of everything else around you seems as if it would crush you. Arthur is still your cousin. Yes I know of the fight, I have ears too." This thought made Aislin smile. "He loves you, though it may not show. Do not throw away your life. For you do not know the pain that is left behind after your departure."

Aislin's gray eyes brimmed with tears and she could not help but embrace Tristan. Though she was forced to laugh because he would not hold her in return. "It's all right, no one will think any different of you if you hug a ten year old girl, I promise you." His embrace was warm, and though it was quickly wiped away, she could feel the cold of a tear as it dropped from his eye onto her shoulder.

"Thank you." He quickly released her as the sound of footfalls became closer and heavier, until Gwain and Bors were right in front of them. "What is it?"

"It's the Woads, they're trying to breech the walls." Bors educated them, stopping to take a breath every few seconds.

Gwain, who had recovered his breathing, continued the speech for him. "They have already made it past the first gate and are now ramming the second one with a burning tree trunk." He stopped a moment and glanced over Aislin's horrified face. "The Roman archers are killing and wounding as many as possible but there are simply too many Woads. They're swarming the wall."

"What are we to do?"

"General Silvanus said to get as many of the townspeople into the cellars of the villa as possible and to protect them as need be."

Aislin glanced up at Tristan and no longer saw the fear of his past haunting his eyes but the determination of a deadly warrior. She felt more confident about her own life when she saw how he dealt with his. There was a way to separate your private life from war and battle; Arthur would simply have to learn that with time, as Tristan has. If they were to survive that night, that is.

-

AN: I hope that explains to you why Tristan has acted the way he has around Aislin. And though you see a soft side of Tristan at the end of this chapter, that soft side will never completely resurface again. Simply because he is a man who does not show much emotion, he is mostly warrior and I will not destroy that aspect about him. He is still young in this chapter so it was acceptable to add some emotion but as he grows it will become more hidden. With that stated I would be glad to know your thoughts on this chapter as well as questions, so please review. Thanks, ta!


	5. Chapter 5: The Siege on Hadrian's Wall

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:**

**Chapter 5: The Siege on Hadrian's Wall**

AN: Salut! Sorry it has been so long, it took me a while to write this one plus I've been super busy. I painted my room this past weekend and finished my last drive time with the driving instructor! wOOt! So yeah, I'm glad to have updated. I love this chapter because it gets into the battle but unfortunately because it gets into the battle I feel it takes away some of the finesse of the characters. But I'll let you read and you can tell me for yourself what you thought of it. Okay? Alright… get reading…lol!

-

Arthur had been sleeping in his chamber when Vanora burst in screaming. "Arthur! ARTHUR GET UP! THE WALL IS UNDER ATTACK! GET UP!" She thrust him out of bed and onto the floor, where he landed uncomfortably on the stone slabs.

"What?" He squinted through his weary eyelids up at the young woman.

"No time to explain, just come with me, and hurry!" Vanora latched her hand around Arthur's arm and pulled him up from the floor in one enormous jerk of her body. "Let's go!"

They raced out of the room, Vanora leading down the hall towards the staircase with a bundle of sheets in her left arm as she dragged Arthur along with the other. All that he could see of her constantly moving and shaking body was her hair as it tumbled down from its usual stance on her head, everything else was a blur. She was sweating and panting, and burning up with frustration once they had reached the main level. "Damn, I can't see anything with all these people." She turned to Arthur and pleaded with him. "Look, the wall is nearly breached, I am to take you and as many of the other servants down into the cellar for safety. Grab a hold my arm as tight as you can because from here on out we're running through a maze to get down there. Are you ready?" Arthur grabbed a hold of her arm and nodded.

They were off, constantly banging into the townspeople who littered the streets and the livestock that had been set free to run. As they passed the main part of the Villa Arthur caught a glimpse of the wall and the fire that was blazing up on the other side. His soul shrank back within him and he was left in a trance, his home, his people would die on this night, and he had had the ignorance to bicker with Aislin on a day like this. Tears fell from his eyes and rolled down his rosy cheeks. He might never again set eyes on her determined figure or hear the sound of her voice as they raged on in their own duel; this was his companion, his friend and he let her slip away.

"Arthur, come. There is not much time left. Do you see the wall? They will be in here at any moment, come." Vanora jerked him away from his trance and back to the thick dank smell of reality, they were at war.

"Aislin! We must find her." He cried out, whilst he begged and tugged on her gown.

"Arthur, we cannot. She probably is already down there; she is a smart girl. She would've known to go to the cellar for protection. Come, now!" Vanora pulled him along with a force she never knew existed, but she knew that she could not lead him to his suicide, for that is what he would go to if he left her side. If Aislin died then a trusted companion was lost, but if Arthur died then the future Commander of a powerful noble fleet would have been lost to the ashes, and that was something Vanora could not let happen.

The two of them packed themselves into the cool damp cellars and bundled up with the sheets that Vanora had been so thoughtful to grab. The young boys head bobbed around the crowd searching for any sign of his cousin. "Aislin! Aislin! Has anyone here seen my cousin Aislin?" Though his cries were all in vain, for no one had seen her.

He took off up the stairs, Vanora quick on his heels. "ARTHUR! NO, LET GO OF ME!" She turned and tried to fend of the villagers who were desperately trying to keep her safe in the dank tomb. "ARTHUR!" Her last cry was all that escaped from the slowly closing cellar doors. As the light from the outside became few and far between her sobs became worse until she had finally fell to the ground in her own distress.

-

"Aislin," Tristan called her over to Kade's stall once more. "You remember that I told you he was marvelously tame?" She nodded in agreement. "Do not fear him, for you must ride with me to the cellars. There will be many distractions, many people running around, try not to think about it, he will guide us, all that matters is you getting to safety. Do you understand, no matter what happens you will get to safety?"

At his last words she began to panic, 'what of you, won't you come with me to the cellars?"

His eyes left hers, which had already begun to tear up, and scanned the stable. "I cannot, I must help as many of the other's as possible." Tristan's shadowed eyes moved back to face her. "You promise me now, that no matter what goes on you will stay in the cellars." He saw the waver of fear fly across her face, "Aislin, promise me."

"Yes, I promise." her voice was hollow as she spoke.

"Good," he lead the horse out and did not even bother to place a saddle on before lifting her onto its back. He made sure the other two knights were ready to go before he climbed up and lead the horse out.

At first there was no commotion, no screams of torment, only the sound of the wind rushing past Aislin's ear as the horses shifted into full sprint through the village. Eventually cries were heard, then people were spotted, and then the terrible sound of the gate being smashed open. The young girl turned her head and watched as the Woads poured in to the garrison, their swords and spears gripped tightly within their palms, ready for battle. "Do not think on it, you are going to be safe in the cellars." She heard Tristan mutter to her as they came further into the village.

She had spotted something not moments before, a child running. Aislin's gray eyes searched for it again and then she saw him. "ARTHUR! STOP TRISTAN! STOP THE HORSE!" When he didn't halt she resorted to pulling on the horses mane and halting him herself.

The young girl had flung herself from the horse's back, and rolled on the ground for a moment while she caught the air that had been knocked out of her. "Aislin, get up, are you-." Tristan was caught off guard and knocked from his horse by a Woad. Aislin jumped back narrowly missing the falling knight and his attacker.

"Tristan!" She went to lunge at the Woad as a reflex but found that he had knocked her to the ground in his effort to kill Tristan. Her mind was swimming and her head aching with pain.

"Lancelot, get her out of here!" Tristan shouted as he fought his way out of the Woad's hold.

Aislin hadn't even noticed the second knight until he pulled her from the ground and dragged her away from the scene. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw the brutal scene in its entirety. Romans were dueling with Woads and most were losing. Bors and Gawain rode a few down with their steeds, while Tristan continued to wrestle one in the dirt, blood draining from his lower lip. The young girl was in a state of shock, how could it have gotten like this.

She had been in so much of a daze that she hadn't even truly realized she was saved. Her mind started to filter back to the reality of the situation; she was running, or more or less being dragged by Lancelot through the side streets of the village. He was talking to her though she did not hear a word that came from him, until he mentioned Arthur.

"He came through this part not ten moment ago. I had been following him all the while, trying to stop him and bring him back to the cellars. That's when I saw Tristan and you," he broke off, noticing her distressed face.

"Is he still out here? We must find him! We cannot leave him out here to die!" She screamed in panic.

Lancelot grabbed her shoulders, "do you want to die?" His eyes were hard and unkind, "I didn't think so. If you stay out here any longer you will. I will come back out with the rest of the Sarmatians and I will help find him, he is our future Commander and as such we cannot leave him behind. But for now, I am ordered to keep you safe, so whether you like it or not, you are coming with me."

Aislin felt the anger rise within herself, she struggled with his hold of her until she was free. She would not stay with him; he was the last person on this God forsaken Earth that she would ever feel safe with. She let her feet carry her away from him to the only exit, back to the battle.

-

Arthur's feet were raw and blistered, in some parts they were even bleeding. He slowed to a stop in his running and leaned himself against a wooden post, his breathing not as harsh as before. His mind had gone blank with fear; all he could see was smoke, all he could hear was the shrieks of women and cries of men, all he could smell was the sent of oak ablaze with an unrelenting fire.

He began to wonder once more, stumbling over rocks and fragments of wood. As he turned the bend the scent of burning oak changed, there had been something added, something foul. It reminded him of the way pigskin smelt as it was being branded, the way meat from animals smelt when they were dried by the fire, except this smell was much stronger. He turned the corner and saw the burning dwelling not far off; he saw the woman within it and took off down the hill.

At the bottom he tripped over a clump of dirt and fell into the fence, tears ran from his eyes, but not from pain, from a breaking heart. "Mother! MOTHER!"

A wagon was thrust down the hill, its contents causing it to pick up speed. Arthur climbed the fence, he would try to get to it, but it was too late. The rattling of the wheels had subsided and the entire wagon was now ablaze with the flickering red substance that tortured his mother. "ARTORIUS!" Her last word rang through Arthur's mind as if it had been a warning bell. He stood for a moment and watched as her body fell back into hell's fire. That awful smell of burnt flesh stinging his nostrils.

As he stood his anger rose, his palms had become sweaty and clenched into fists. His mother, the only woman to have come close to him, had been destroyed by these heathens, these barbarians of the woods. Arthur's feet trudged through the debris that littered the streets without his minds knowledge. He ignored the occasional Pict that was caught in a duel, as they ignored him, and continued on his way. He would kill the leader, the head of the Pict rebellion, Merlin.

-

Aislin skidded to a stop as she reentered the battleground. The breath in her lungs was released in a tremor of shock; she had not even begun to imagine the entirety of a war before this point. No matter how often she watched the knights practice battle skills, it was of no comparison to this. Men were being butchered, their blood staining the ground, the same ground that not a day ago they had walked to fetch chickens and milk cows. Their home was abolished and now they were as well. Blood splattered over Aislin's trembling body as a farmer's head was sliced clean from his shoulders. She had neither a voice to scream nor a clear mind to command her body to move.

She was so lost in shock as to what she had been witnessing that she hardly noticed the arm that had wrapped around her waist and pulled her to the ground in a sliding motion, narrowly avoiding the spear that would have taken her life. Aislin watched in disbelief as Lancelot thrust his sword into the gut of the Woad who had threatened her life. Thick crimson blood ran down the length of the blade until it reached the hilt and dripped onto they young girl's forehead. Her fogged eyes starred at her savior in bewilderment. She could see through the pits of his eyes to the shaking hand that held the blade in position that he had never before taken someone's life.

Her heart raced as she latched onto Lancelot's hand and helped to pull the blade from the corpse. They needed to get away from here; she would not die like this. She had looked at the dead man's face and saw pain, saw horror, a kind of horror she did not want to feel.

"We have to get out of here," his voice was small but determined and Aislin, despite her hatred towards the knight, did not intend to find a reason to disagree.

He pulled her from the ground and glanced around for a safe exit, but they had already been pulled into the thick of battle. There wasn't even a split second to think before they were attacked once more. The knight shoved Aislin to the side successfully knocking her to the ground again. She rolled to avoid a descending sword before trying to stand up and regain her balance.

There was nothing that could have prevented the next moment as she was lifted away from the dirt, her feet dangling desperately trying to reach the coolness of earth's crust. Her mind dozed in and out of reality before she took notice of the cold metal against her throat. She could feel the warmth of the warrior's breath as it blew on her ear and his binding grip around her stomach. Aislin felt the vomit rise to her mouth; she choked on the horrible taste of last night's pork and stale wine and did her best to keep it confined.

Aislin heard the tearing of the Woad's flesh and the heat of his blood as it trickled over her shoulder. She was released and dropped to the ground vomiting what was left in her mouth. The stench came to her nostrils and she turned in disgust of her own weakness. Aislin watched as her captive was speared straight through to his back, her stomach churned and she threw up once more at the sight of this death. She was not meant to see this, she couldn't handle it, and she knew she would not last another moment out here.

"Aislin! Are you injured?" Tristan had huddled to her, his worn hands searching her face for wounds. She shook her head still in a deep trance. "Where's Lancelot and the other's? Do you know?"

"He was here, was right here." Her sentences were fragments of information just as the battle was fragmenting and breaking up. "He saved me, but attacked, he-." She caught a glimpse, something so frightful it made her heart leap in her chest. The knight was being beaten, kicked and sliced as if for sport. She saw the bow raised, the arrow aimed and the leader of the Woads holding it all in place. Aislin had no conscious reason why she had risen and ran toward them. Perhaps she felt she owed a debt to Lancelot for saving her life, perhaps she wished the fighting to stop, or perhaps she wanted Merlin to see her in all of her hideousness. Whatever the reason, she left all common sense behind her and went to them, as if a moth to a flame.

-

Arthur entered the rotting cemetery and headed for his father's burial mound. He knelt before it in a begging manner and spoke softly so only the heavens could hear his whispered prayer. "Father, please forgive me but I need your guidance, your strength to wield your sword. I need your help to protect our people to avenge mother and to destroy our enemy. Help me."

He struggled with the sword, his grip as tight and as strong as he could muster. But it was to no avail he could not retrieve it. "Please Father, let loose your sword!" At his cry he pulled with all his might and released the double-edged spatha. "Bless you Father."

Arthur carried the burden of the sword's weight in both hands as he made his way past the crumbling dwelling that was his mother's confinement. His tears had all but dried up though his pain was still great. He toppled over in agony begging for vengeance and revenge over the Woads who destroyed everything that Arthur had come to hold close to his heart. He prayed for the will to carry on, for courage to face the beasts, the heathen's who destroyed him.

He thought of Aislin and who she was, who she could become if she were indeed still alive, and he detested the thought. His eyes wondered to the battleground through the broken down fences and singed dwellings. He saw the Roman's prevailing, he saw that the Woads were outnumbered yet they still fought, then he saw Aislin and he too ran.

-

"Stop!" She tripped over the dead corpses that littered their fields and stained their lake. "Please stop!" Her eyes were blood shot from painful tears and the burden of life and yet she charged on, ignoring the sickness that threatened to show itself once more. "Please you mustn't! MERLIN!"

His eyes flickered towards her and he watched as she collapsed to the ground in pure exhaustion. He knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to end this on going battle now and be rid of the Romans. But he also knew what he had to do, he was outnumbered and there was no hope of taking the field with so many casualties, he had to retreat.

Aislin glanced around and took in the state of everything little by little. She saw Lancelot being held on his knees by a Pict, his face bloodied and his tunic torn. The young girl starred on as the knight's captor hit him in his side. "No!" She cried out as she crawled in the mud over to Merlin. "Please, no more blood. No more." She muttered, tears streaming from her eyes.

Merlin hesitated; sweat dripping from his forehead as he battled with his conscience. He starred down at what he had done, how he had placed his own people in jeopardy and marched out here in all rashness. He glanced at this young Britain, this girl whom he placed here for safety and how he boldly turned against that pledge. He lowered the bow and proceeded to let it fall to the ground. "You are safe, Aislin child of the forest." He stated blankly and gruffly. "Release him," Merlin's voice was steady as he commanded his warrior.

"But sir," he pleaded.

"I said release him." He commanded again and this time Lancelot was let go of. He caught himself before he hit the dirt and then slowly eased himself to the ground just before he passed out.

Aislin toppled over and fell unwillingly into a deep sleep as well. Her mind swimming far from that butchered place. "Father!" A young man came running up the side of the hill, a scowl burned into his face. "We must kill her. She is one of them now."

"No," he breathed, "she is of our blood. I sent her here so that atleast one of our people might have a chance at living a free life. I will not destroy what I once saved." Merlin turned to walk away.

His son, though how stubborn he was, was not grasping the whole of the situation. "If you do not put an end to this now she will marry and produce a child. A Roman child."

The Woad leader gazed at his young minded son, he looked him over with an understanding of the rages produced by youth. "That child will also be half Britain. She will secure our claim on their side as her Aunt has done. We have made our point here today, but we have lost too many and we must save our strength for another day. Call the retreat, we are finished here." Merlin continued down the hill to the band of rebels that were his army.

The son faced the young child and pulled his sword, "It is my duty to our people Aislin, and you must come to understand that." The blade was to the ten-year-old's throat and he was about to make his move when he felt the familiar pain of a sword to his own neck.

"Remove your sword," Tristan's voice was level and his eyes keenly on the irresponsible Pict. "I said, remove your sword." He gave a jerk of the Spatha and made a minute slice in the young man's flesh.

The Woad boy tossed the blade to the side and held his hands out before turning to face the knight. Tristan took in the sight of him, dark eyes, and dark hair to his earlobes, painted skin, and a small tattoo on the center of his forehead in the shape of a sun. He wasn't frightening but vengeful. "Now leave, unless you want to die?" The Woad, without so much as another word was gone back down the side of the hill.

Tristan bent down and scooped Aislin up in his arms. He stood for a moment balancing the weight and watched as two Roman legions helped pull Lancelot from his huddled position in the blood and dirt combination. Then he too, began his stroll back to the burned out village, limping every now and then.

When he made it to the bottom of the hill Arthur greeted him with a disheveled look. Tristan's footing slipped and dropped to the side, with Aislin still clenched to his chest. The young boy ran to him. "Are you-." He stepped back, his face running pale with horror, "Aislin!"

"She's alive, but extremely exhausted and I would-" he stiffened with pain from his back, and then released a wavered breath. "I would imagine she would be devastated by what she's seen though. For now we need to get her to-." He paused rethinking what he was about to say, safety. Was there any safe place within the tattered remains of this garrison? "We need to get her somewhere where she can rest."

"Most of the Villa is still intact, perhaps we could find a place there." Tristan nodded and began to stand once more.

"Your father's?" He pointed to the sword in Arthur's arms.

"Yes."

-

AN: Thought that might be a good place to end it. Now a note to y'all, I know it seemed as though Lancelot and Aislin were starting to like each other in this chapter… not so fast. After this chapter it is more like they have a certain respect for each other, they no longer loath the other person they just dislike them… a lot. But the good news… after the beginning of the next chapter time flies by and the story will begin to pick up pace. So that's always something to look forward to. Well, if you have any questions feel free to ask. And as always that you to all that have reviewed! And a special note to KateMary77, yes there will be romance and it will start to blossom over the next few chapters. Ta!


	6. Chapter 6: To Start Anew

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:**

**Chapter 6: To Start Anew**

AN: I thank you all for your lovely reviews. I would like to say that in this chapter there is a song, the song does not belong to me it belongs to Cassie Franklin and the people who created Cold Mountain. One of the words is off because I had to change it work for this story… but again I have no ownership whatsoever over the lyrics. With that said, I took a lot of time on this chapter, and I think it came out very well. So I hope you enjoy. Thanks!

-

The days that passed by were blurred together in one long stream of grief. So many had died on that fateful day, so many which should not have ever been touched by the descending sword of heathens. For many who had survived the past had dissipated from their grasp and now they were forced to change, to adapt to a new way of life. Men were set to work at rebuilding the gates and dwellings, women were sent out to find what was left of the livestock, and children were placed to help out with whatever they could.

But there was an eerie silence that settled over the village of Hadrian's wall, no one truly spoke they simply went about their ways as they were told. General Silvanus had been killed during battle and his subordinate was now in charge, belting out orders as soon as they crossed his mind. He was a stocky man with beady eyes and a hooked nose, much like the beak of a falcon. None of the knights had agreed to his terms of command but there was truly nothing they could do about it. If you plan to survive you do not turn your back on those who can help you live.

Arthur had almost turned into a ghost; he rarely spoke to anyone, he was always drifting around never truly staying in one place or the next, and he had grown sickly over the days of the aftermath. His usually bright vibrant green eyes had dimmed and fogged over with depression, his hair had become oily and unkempt, and his overall appearance was hollow. The people of the village had become accustomed to his somber nature for it was the same somberness that everyone could understand; he simply wore his grief on the outside whereas theirs was within themselves.

Everyday he would walk the long winding path through the cemetery and gaze out at all the new graves that had been dug within the days prior to it. Though his mind and soul were only set on one grave, a grave that would never be dug, a grave that could only be held in his mind, his own grave. There was no one in the world that could convince him that he had not died, for he had, or a part of him had atleast. His innocence of life had been robbed from him, plucked from his soul at such a young age that it is hard to imagine life without it. The things he had seen would trouble him in the months to come, within years he would use it for thought and strategy, and eventually revenge for what he had lost. But for that moment, as it was fresh in his mind, sorrow is what overtook him.

-

Aislin had not yet awoken from her dreary slumber. She was paler then the snow that threatened to fall at any moment outside, and as worn as the men who slaved everyday, since the siege, at building and rebuilding. Vanora was by her side at all hours; whether it be to pat her forehead with warm water, change her clothes, speak with her, or even to simply watch over her. She was always there.

The thatch door brushed the floor as it was opened allowing candle light from the hall to pour in and illuminate a pathway for the guest. Gawain placed a comforting hand on Vanora's shoulder and gently woke her. She had fallen into a light sleep on the stool with her back up against the wall, a very uncomfortable rest. "How is she?"

"Still sleeping," Vanora released a deep sigh, "at this point I don't know if she'll ever wake up. She just lays there stiff as a bored. She hasn't ever moved on her own, I've had to rotate her every couple of hours so that her limbs don't freeze up." She shook her head and allowed her tears to drain in her hands for a few moments before she gasped and spoke up once more. "I don't know if what I'm doing is even helping, I mean I'm running out of options here, Gawain. I just- I just don't know what to do anymore." At that point she let everything go and broke down in sobs.

"Shh, she'll wake up." He wrapped his arms around her and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder for comfort. "Your doing everything you can, she'll wake up." His hand petted the back of her head in a soothing motion as an effort to calm her down.

"She sometimes will whisper in her sleep, fragments of nothing. Sometimes they're names other times just a jumble of words. I don't know what to make of it. I wish she would just open her eyes and say something to me, anything so long as I knew she was alive." Vanora gave a slight giggle at the thought of all the insults the two of them would deliver to each other. "Tristan sent you up here, didn't he?"

Gawain was forced to smile, "yes, he did. He would've come up here himself, but with his wound he can't. It had been enough strain on his leg to bring her here, for now my words will need to be enough for him."

Vanora pulled out of the embrace, "he's always worrying about her. Every time I go to fetch food, or water, or anything and I walk by his chamber he asks me how she is. Whether she has woken up or not."

"He won't admit it but he does care for her, I'm not sure what his reasons are, but he does care."

"How could anyone not care for her?" Vanora posed as she rubbed her eyes dry of tears.

"Lancelot manages somehow." The knight chuckled heartily as the thought of Lancelot's bickering with the ten-year-old came to mind. "Now come, your exhausted. You should go rest, I'll watch over her for now."

The young woman nodded in agreement, "thank you."

"I'll get Galihad to walk you downstairs." Gawain stood up and walked out of the thatch door.

Vanora gazed out over Aislin's limp body, "I will come back in the morning. Gawain will be here to watch over you until then." She leaned over and grasped the girl's hand and held it tightly within the palm of her own. "Aislin don't leave, please Oh God in heaven don't take her from us." Vanora kissed her friend's hand and then covered her up with an extra fur before turning to leave.

"No," Aislin's eyes stirred beneath their lids. "No! No more blood!"

Vanora spun around, her eyes wide with shock. "Aislin! Aislin your awake!" She dropped down next to the bed and latched onto Aislin's arm.

"No more blood, please no more!" She cried out as she opened her eyes. "No more!" The young girl screamed in terror, her voice echoing in the hall.

"Aislin, Aislin stop! Settle down!"

"Get it off! Get it off!" She began tearing at her clothes and scratching her forehead in a rampage. Aislin flung herself on the floor in a desperate attempt to escape whatever was ailing her. "No more blood! Get it off!"

The older girl ran to her side and restrained her, "It's all right Aislin! There is no more blood. It is gone. You are safe, it is over." Tears slipped from Vanora's wide eyes as she rocked Aislin back and forth to calm her down. "It's over, you are safe."

Gawain and Galihad burst into the room their faces panic stricken, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Shh, I'm fine. I think she still thought she was on the battlefield." The young woman kissed her friend's head, and closed her own eyes. Vanora thought of the innocent Aislin, the youthful and jovial Aislin, and knew she was no more. This child had been forced to see things beyond her years, things she could not possibly begin to comprehend, and if she were to make it out of this delusional state she would never be the same. Vanora forced away the thought, _she is still my Aislin, and nothing has changed that. I can help her be the person she once was._ "But she'll be fine now," she paused and allowed a single tear to drain from her eye. "I hope," her muffled prayer was not even noticed by the two knights.

Gawain stepped further into the room, "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No, no I think I'll be fine." She opened her eyes and watched as Gawain headed for the door. In truth she needed help, she had no idea how to care for this ailing child, but she was too stubborn of a person to ask for any advice. "Gawain!" She paused thinking of what to say, "tell Tristan that she is awake." The knight nodded and left the two girls alone in the darkness.

-

"Do you think she will make it?" Galihad, who was a year younger than Aislin, was by far the youngest knight brought to Hadrian's Wall. He was sent to the cellars with the rest of the townspeople when the attack occurred, and rightfully so otherwise he might have ended up as Aislin had.

"That is not for me to predict." Gawain shrugged and urged Galihad to walk with him down the hall. "I saw her cousin, Arthur, out on the field. I saw him run to the burial mounds, I saw him retrieve a sword, and I saw him with the will to use it. I also saw Aislin overcome with so much grief that she ran straight through the slaughter and begged Merlin himself to end this battle. There are not many people here who would've done that." His voice trailed off and he decided that instead of rambling he would make his point evident. "I see her courage measured next to her cousin's and I find them to be the same in amount but different in use. Do you understand?"

"Not truly, no." Galihad admitted meekly.

"She is a girl, someone with no experience in warfare and with no desire to use it if she had any. She would not be the one to charge the battlefield; her courage is tested by the aftermath. By how she holds up after the battle is done when all the grief and sorrow rains down on her people. I see what she has done and I believe that this is the first of many wounds to be healed in her lifetime." His smile broadened, "but those are just my thoughts. You make what you want of them." With a yawn he waved his young friend off and headed toward his own cot.

-

"Vanora, Vanora." Aislin poked her companion in the side to try and wake her. "Vanora won't you wake up?"

"I'm awake, just merely resting my eyes is all," her voice was coarse and her tone slightly annoyed.

"Oh," Aislin lay on the bed facing her friend's closed eyes with a sense of boredom. It had been several days since she woke up and though she was still very morbid her overall appearance was much brighter. "Are we going to lay in bed all day? I feel as if I've had enough sleep to last my entire lifetime."

"You may get up if you want to, but I personally feel that it is much warmer here under these blankets. It provides you with a nice comfortable sleep." Vanora bundled herself up in the wool blankets and pretended to have a chill.

"I thought you were just resting your eyes," Aislin questioned.

"You know what, come here you!" The older girl grabbed a hold of Aislin and pulled her underneath the blankets with her. "You're going to stay right here with me and I'm going to tickle you to death or until you surrender, whichever should come first." In a spout of laughter Aislin tried her best to escape from Vanora's tickling fingers and failed miserably.

"Give! Give!" Aislin shouted in an effort to stop the poking fingers.

"Good," Vanora sighed and rolled back under her covers. Her voice became muffled from the wool being over her mouth as she spoke. "Now when I am finished _resting my eyes_ I will do something nice with your hair and we can go down and help Grockus with the crops."

The young girl gave a weak smile before climbing from the cot and making her way over to the singed window. The sky was clouded over with a gray fog and the land was so pale it seemed colorless. It had fit perfectly with Aislin's disposition and she loathed it. Perhaps if there had been better weather with sunny blue skies it would have been easier for her to cope with her pain, instead it hindered her progress.

Her tears had all but dried up and she did not have any words left within her to mourn those who had died, she had become empty. Aislin did have little moments of happiness; moments when Vanora had managed to make her laugh or smile, moments when she managed not to think of her Aunt, of what she had seen, of Arthur's agony. At those points she had been genuinely pleased, but once they had ended, faded into the hazed background of her thoughts, she returned to her depression.

As Aislin gazed out over the nearly barren fields she saw her cousin. His hunched figure moped about, weaving itself in and out of the fence. She thought of their silly games and their jokes, things that at one time had brought her the most joy, and she found that she missed them. Perhaps seeing and speaking with Arthur would improve both of their conditions.

He stood just outside of the cemetery when she finally found him. His dark hair lying around his face in a disheveled mess, his tunic and cloak soiled with mud. She had not the idea of how to approach him. He had not come to see her since she woke up and the last thing she can remember him saying to her was that she was an embarrassment to him. Aislin wanted to speak with him, she wanted him to cheer her up, but now she saw that he would not be the one to brighten her spirits. For his wee just as dank as hers were.

She bit her lip and stepped forward, "Arthur?"

His eyes rose to meet hers and once they had she felt his cold glare penetrate through her to her soul. His glare froze her entire being for it was one of disgust of loathing. She felt herself become sick and turned her back before he could see her illness take control of her. She opened her mouth and began hacking as if to vomit; all the pain she had been able to release, all the tears that had dried up, and all the ailments that she had healed from hurled back to her at full force. Aislin saw the hate in his face, saw the discontent and knew that he wanted nothing to do with her. She had lost her best friend for good.

She dropped to the ground, doubled over, and held her arm to her stomach. Aislin could taste the foul puke rising in her throat until it finally poured over and spilled from her lips. Tears of sorrow dripped from her fogged eyes as she wept over her weakness and childishness. He walked past her, never glancing down to see her pain, and never stopping to help. He had become cold, how could she have ever thought he would want to see her, to look at what she had become; weak, pitiful, and plain.

The young girl watched him leave and she felt something within her ignite, something that was born of her sorrow; anger. She brushed herself off, dried her tears, and followed him. The hem of her dress traipsed through the mud as she scurried after him. He stopped in front of a burned down dwelling and she knew at once where she was. Vanora had told her how her aunt had past on, how she was burned alive in the fire.

"Hating me will not bring her back!" She shouted at his back. "I am not my people! I did not kill my own aunt, I did not attack my village, and I did not hurt you!"

Arthur dropped down on to his knees, his shoulders shaking from his sobs. Aislin bit her cheek as she walked towards him. "You are my blood, Arthur, my family, and I love you." She bent down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Tears ran down the length of her cheeks; she had no thought as to where her strength came from on that day. No inclination on why she decided to go after him when it seemed so impossible for her to even feel optimistic, but she had.

He turned and faced her, his eyes waterlogged and his face pink from crying so suddenly and so powerfully. There were no words between the two children, no audible agreement, just peace as Arthur buried his head into his cousin's shoulder. They knew things would never be as they were, but now they had a chance to start anew.

-

Five years had passed since that day and still it stayed as fresh in Aislin's mind as if it had been yesterday. Every year she would return to the same spot and lay down a bouquet of wild flowers in appreciation of what her aunt had done for Arthur and herself. She believed that Acacia's death had not been in vain, that through her death Arthur and herself were able to be brought back together by a means Aislin could not have done on her own.

"Once he kissed her lilly white hand, twice he kissed her cheek," the young woman sang as she strolled into the town from the field. "Three times he kissed her-."

"Sounds like a very pleasing song, are you thinking about your true love?" As his black steed blocked her path she heard his irking voice wretch its way into her thoughts. Lancelot sat proudly on his horse awaiting her reply with a playful smile dancing across his lips.

Aislin thought it best to answer him with the rest of the line, for it was self-explanatory. "Three times he kissed her cold corpsey lips and fell into her arms asleep." She ducked under his horse's neck and continued on her way, admiring her beautiful array of flowers all the while. "He asked is Lady Margaret in her room, or is she out in the hall?"

His smile broadened and he led his horse down the other alley, "I'll take that as a no?"

She sang louder in response, "for Lady Margaret lay in her cold black grave with her face turned to the wall!" Aislin shrugged off the little incident and went about her business as usual.

The young woman followed the path down around the bend and up to the rotting remains of a burned down home and the growth of shrubbery and vines. She knelt down before the ashes and laid the bouquet at the base. "Good morning Aunt Acacia, as always I've brought you a fresh bunch of our finest flowers. Arthur's been doing fine, he trains daily with his knights and the Roman Legions. Lancelot and him seemed to be getting along very well now; ever since the siege Arthur's had more and more respect for the brute. I suppose most of it is due to his protection of me, and yet I can feel no compassion to the mindless dog." Aislin groaned in frustration.

"Vanora is still my closest ally next to Arthur. She has found herself a man to love; a man she should rightfully wed but still has not come around to doing so. His name is Bors; he's one of Arthur's knights, a good man, a little rowdy, but a good man. She has one son with him already, Cabe, he's about a year old now. And I? Well I'm fine on my own, always have been. Besides my sixteenth birthday is coming up soon, five days I believe, I haven't been keeping track. Lady Baximus says that is the age when a girl becomes a woman."

"Oh Aunt, I wish you could see us here. We have become a great colony, soon Arthur will assume command over the entire garrison, and I will be a woman. I never forget what you have given me, a life of freedom, a life of which I will make the best of. I will not let you down. God bless you and keep you Acacia." Aislin bowed her head and turned to leave.

Aislin made her way back through the town towards the stable. She entered the enclosed fortress; it was dark with only a few flickers of light from the roof to illuminate her pathway. She made her way to Kade's stall and found him with his head protruding from behind the gate. "Good morning old friend." She patted his snout gently and unbolted the gate. "Do you want to be brushed?" As if to respond he nayed and knocked his head into her shoulder. "Yes, you do."

She took his reigns and led him out of the stall and into the center of the stable before tieing the leather straps to a post. Aislin retrieved the bores- hair brush and began to brush the animal's fur in light stroking motions. She listened intently to the sound of his breathing and the ruffles of his hair as it passed through the bristle of the brush. Her mind was in a daze; the sweeping motion of her arms and the calm silence placed her in a very relaxed state of being. It was something that every once in a while she needed to do to unload the pressure.

Arthur entered the stable his footfalls heavy and yet proud. He made his way down the stretch to where Aislin stood, stroking the beast. "Hello Cousin," she was the first to speak.

Arthur smiled and sat on a bench opposite the horse. "Why is it you never pay your respects on the day she died, but two seasons later?" His question was not to be rude but more or less to gain information. Most of the time that is how Arthur and Aislin spoke to each other, no fancy words, no lies, just blunt statements.

"There are no flowers of which I like in fall." She replied cooly.

"Then why do you not invite me to pay respects with you?"

"Do you not speak with your God alone?" The young woman posed. "I simply like to speak with my aunt alone. It is a matter of preference not of duty." She sat the brush down on the stall and walked around to Arthur, "are you upset with me?"

He took a minute to think out his response, "No, no." He shook his head and stood to leave.

"You are." Her voice was one of pleasant surprise not of anger or sadness. "You are upset with me. Sit and tell me why. What have I done this time?"

"It's nothing you did, it's just." He paused glancing at her curious face. She had changed greatly since he first met her. Her hair was no longer cropped to her shoulders but fell around mid back and was more yellow blond than before, her face had matured and was somewhat weathered, and her height had changed dramatically, there was only a head left in between Aislin and himself. But it was not only her appearance that had changed but also her attitude; she lived to change now, when before she lived to keep things together. "It is nothing you can help with."

"Well atleast you can tell me about it, that way it might not distress you as much." She extended her arm to offer a seat on the bench.

He swallowed his pride and sat down. "Now what I'm about to tell you-."

"Yes, I know can't be told to another soul. I get it, go on."

She knew him well, which is what had made this so difficult to tell her. "I have been asked," he held himself back, he couldn't tell her.

"You have been asked… what?"

His eyes closed and he spat it all out with as much dignity as he could, "if you would take a husband on your sixteenth birthday. He is a Roman from another garrison just a few miles north of the wall. He is twenty and would be a good protector and provider for you."

Aislin stood from the bench her mind drifting in and out. Arthur pressed on, "they tell me he is well mannered, attractive, and wealthy."

"You? You want me to leave? To marry a Roman and have Roman babies in another place, a place where I can never see my friends or family again." She paused her mind swelling with so many emotions. "Arthur,_ you_ want me to leave?"

"Aislin I-."

"No, answer me. Do you want me to leave?" Her voice had become brittle.

"No, of course I don't. But I don't have a say in it," he took a breath, "and neither do you."

She collapsed to the floor in confusion, "married? I'm going to be married?"

"I'm sorry, I-." He bent down to help her up.

"No, it's okay. You had nothing to do with it. You couldn't stop any of it." Aislin applied pressure to her head to try and stop the spinning. "I'm tired, I think I'll go lay down for a little while." She began to walk away and took one fleeting look back at Arthur, "can you put Kade away?" She saw his shadowed image nod before she completely left the stable.

-

AN: So yes, marriage… sounds interesting doesn't it? I had to do it. I must admit I wasn't going to originally and then I was like oh heck with it… it gives the story spice. So the next few chapters for me will be rather enjoyable, and I hope you find them enjoyable as well. Until then, thanks for the reviews and I'll c ya later!


	7. Chapter 7: How Deep the Rabbit Hole Real...

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:**

**Chapter 7: How Deep the Rabbit Hole Really Goes**

AN: YES! IHAVE INTERNET AGAIN! does dance around room….. runs to computer screen and kisses it …. 1001…1002…1003….. 0h and what the heck….1004! I have been unable to update due to lack of internet for the past… what is it now 2 months? I'm just glad to be back because I have some really good chapters that I would like you to read…. Such as this one….. so if you please go right along and do just that… thank you again for your patience and your lovely reviews which I am just now receiving… blah…. Oh well. By the way I am going to hold off on any questions asked because I know there's going to be a few….so look for them in the next chapter.

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"Lancelot!" Arthur's voice carried down the hallway as he jogged after his companion. After catching his breath he spoke, "I was wondering if you could help me with a dilemma?" Never before had Arthur truly liked asking Lancelot for help, anyone else would have been fine. But due to the knight's jesting and playful nature it was hard for Arthur to confide in him. He knew eventually he would, as he should confide in all of his knights, but it was getting to that point that was so tedious to Arthur.

The knight looked curiously at his Commander, "What troubles you Arthur? Is the sky falling again?"

Arthur cracked a smile, and then thinking better of it, hid it with a frown. "I'm serious, it's about Aislin."

"Oh," Lancelot turned his head away in an uninterested manner. "What has she done this time? Dropped a candle and set fire to the stable? Tripped in a rut and knocked a poor old woman over, an old woman who just happens to be the village elder? Or has she-."

"She hasn't done a single thing wrong," he paused, "yet."

"Well now there's an achievement," his mockery was beginning to bother Arthur, as it always would after a certain length of time.

"Are you going to help, or simply stand there laughing about my cousin all day?"

"Such tempting choices," Lancelot jested in between his laughs.

"Fine," the commander turned his back and in a furry of disdain began to saunter off. He should've known that he could not rely on Lancelot for his advice; he would have been better off asking the wall.

"Arthur! Arthur wait! I was merely playing. Come, I will listen. Tell me of your dilemma." He spoke, still half giggling.

Arthur took in the thin lining of sincerity that ran through Lancelot's voice and decided to discuss his problem with him. He had to take the leap into friendship at some time, why not then? "I have been sent a message from a Roman garrison above the wall, their highest military official has a son who wishes to marry. They brought their claim here to see if there were any royal women eligible for matrimony, since we are most in contact with Rome out of all the villages along Hadrian's Wall. Without my knowledge, Grockus and his council of advisors chose my cousin."

He turned to Lancelot with a pleading look burned into his eyes. "What am I to do? I explained to Aislin my situation and she left me standing in the stable, she hasn't talked to me in two whole days. She refuses to come down to supper or to even tend to Kade, and she loves Kade. I don't know if she blames me or simply wants to stay sheltered for the rest of her life." He sighed, "her suitor will have arrived in another three days time and by then it would have been to late for me to apologize. I can't believe they volunteered her without my permission! I am her guardian, am I not?" Arthur clenched his fists in frustration.

"She's not even Roman! What is her suitor going to have to say when he finds out? Will he treat her as a slave, or will she have rights as an equal?" Arthur's mind raced over the situation continuously. "Lancelot, how am I to go to this family after they have been promised a bride, after they have made plans for the future, how do I tell them that they cannot have her?"

Lancelot thought for a moment; this was a riddle, a puzzle that simply needed to be solved. "Tell the suitor that she is ill, that she is on her deathbed and could not make the trip nor last more than four days more in her condition."

"They would want to see for themselves."

"Say that they cannot, that is it too horrible an ailment to be witnessed. Tell them that it will spread, and that if they wished to survive they would leave. Make her sound ugly or hideous, I don't know make some horrid disfigurement up. Tell them that she's really a boy." As if that was his final conclusion, he gave a sharp nod and a wide smile.

"How did you come up with that? She has… erm…-." He tried to think of an appropriate word, " breasts. It would be a might noticeable that she was a woman."

"Those are breasts? I thought they were two large growths under her chin! You learn something new everyday."

"You're hopeless."

"Ah, I may be condemned, but Arthur you are the one stuck with the problem, not I." His somber speech brought a chill to Arthur's being. "Why not tell them the truth? Tell them that she is a Woad. They live north of the wall, I'm sure they hate the Woads."

"My mother was a Woad," he posed halfheartedly. "She married a Roman, won't that give them courage to go on with the wedding?"

"Perhaps, if they want a half Roman half Britain commander?" He read the scorn in Arthur's eyes and thought it best to explain. "Arthur, do you not see the cycle? A Britain woman marries a Roman commander and they have a son. The mother visits her family and brings home her niece. The niece grows up and marries a Roman officer and they have a son. That son will be an officer as you are an officer; the Woads will breed the Roman's out of their pure blood. Now you tell me, will this family who has fought the Woads since they arrived on this pathetic island, want to marry into their family?"

Arthur thought this over and knew the answer was no, why hadn't he seen it before? But then, his father had fought the Woads and still he found it possible to marry into their family. It was a hopeless situation any way that you looked at it, one that could only be resolved once they had met the Roman family.

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"THE SCRAWNEY ONE!" The sun had set and the Roman legions were all free to enjoy their leisure. Many stood around in an oblong circle watching a fight and placing their bets.

"I BET THE BEAST!" More coins were tossed to the ground in a rush of excitement and drunkenness. Some of the knights had even joined in on the betting.

Vanora maneuvered in between the tables placing drinks where they were ordered and cleaning up messes where they were left. She grabbed up her tray and slid it across the counter before entering into the storage chamber to retrieve more wine. "Oh!" She stumbled backwards in shock. "Aislin! You frightened me, what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't stay in my room any longer," her eyes were red from fallen tears and her face pale from lack of sun. The rowdy shouts from outside echoed within the tiny chamber. "What's going on out there?"

Vanora's fear was wiped away by a truly gleeful smile, "oh, those vagabonds are betting on a match. Never does cease to amaze them, men beating the snot out of each other I mean." She heard Aislin's minute giggle fade into nothingness.

"Honey what's wrong?" Vanora sat down the sack of wine and waltzed over to her friend.

"It's nothing."

"Aislin dear, I took care of you when you were ill, and when you were upset. Trust me when I say I know there is something wrong." Vanora tried to see past the layer of ice Aislin had caked around her being, but her eyes would yield no hint as to what was bothering her. "Okay, then. You're more than welcome to come out and help me, or you could stay in here. It's up to you."

"Thank you," the young woman's voice was no more than a whisper.

"Don't mention it," Vanora threw over her shoulder as she left the dark room and entered into the light of merriment.

"Who were you talking to?" A stocky man stood at the front of the bar leaning over to talk to the woman.

"Aislin," Vanora leaned in, "she's upset about something, won't say what though." The man made a movement as if to head to the chamber, but Vanora's gentle touch held him back. "Don't, she's very alone and I know she wants to come out here. But it is up to her to come out on her own accord, no one can make her, otherwise she might not come out at all."

"You sound just like a mother," the man stated in his husky voice.

"I am a mother," She leaned over the counter and allowed herself to sink into his kiss.

"Kiss her once for me, Bors." Lancelot jested as he walked by grabbing up another goblet.

Bors had turned his head and shouted after his comrade, as Vanora went back to her duties serving wine and cleaning up. "Now, where were we," Bors asked as he turned around, to his surprise the woman was gone. "Vanora?" His eyes scanned over the scene until he finally found her and smiled. He couldn't have been more pleased with his life; he had a beautiful woman, a son, and the chance to kill for sport.

Aislin pulled her cloak tighter around her body and tried to sneak out of the back room unnoticed, the effort was in vain. "Aislin! There you are!" Bors shouted out in mock surprise.

The young woman spun around and glared at him, she hadn't wanted to be found. She wanted to hide away, to not be seen or remembered. Her plan was to make everyone forget she had existed that way when the time came for her to leave she would not feel the pain of his or her sorrow. But it was too late for that now; she had been gathered into the excitement of the night.

"Aislin!" She watched as her young friend Galahad poked his way through the crowd of betting men and over to her. His curls were drooping around his face from the heat of the day. "Aislin come and dance!"

"Oh, I can't1 I- I have to-." She tried to weasel her way out of it, though he had already grabbed her forearm and was pulling her back through the crowd and into the courtyard.

"Music! Play the music!" He shouted as he pulled her out into the center of the courtyard.

She watched as the men found their couples and headed out to dance as well, her mind racing with both distress and exhilaration. The instrument's voices rose up as if a choir of songbirds, their cheerful tune filled the air with a certain ecstasy that no one could escape. Aislin found herself locked arm in arm with Galahad and another woman prancing around in an awkward circle around an inner circle of people.

As the beat raced so did they, arms lifted to the heavens as people ducked under each other weaving in and out of the dancing circles. It was pure moments of bliss and Aislin even caught herself laughing and smiling. Her mind had left behind her troubles and was merely focusing on the joy of the situation. They frolicked around for what had seemed to be hours, but truthfully was only minutes.

Aislin found herself exhausted after such a stimulating dance, and she nearly toppled over into Galahad's arms, laughing all the while. "Thank you, you have no idea how wonderful that made me feel. I want to do it again!" She burst out in a fit of giggles still feeling the rush of the dance beneath her feet.

He was laughing too as he tried to stay balanced whilst holding her up. "You, I think, need to sit down."

"Okay, for a little while, then we dance again." Her eyes had lit up with a sort of life that had left her some days before. Galahad helped walk her over to a chair and sat with her as Vanora brought drinks over to them.

"Well you seem to be doing much better now." She commented as she laid the drinks on the wooden table.

Aislin just grinned and sipped the wine, savoring every last drop of it as it rushed down the back of her throat, warming her soul with merriment.

"What a happy couple you two make," there it was again, that irking voice protruding in the back of her mind.

"Lancelot, why do you never dance? I'm sure it would be most amusing to watch you make a fool of yourself." Aislin sat her goblet back onto the table and stood, "I'm going back out, Galahad would you join me?"

"She can't dance without you; you must really love her to put up with her clumsiness. I'd be worried that my foot would break under her strain."

Aislin snatched her wine goblet and poured the red liquid over his head causing his curls to stretch and flatten over his face. "Oops, I'm sorry. I'm just so clumsy." Her smile widened at his scornful glare. "Come Galahad, you owe me a second dance." The two departed with laughter in their hearts and wine in their belly ready to wipe away all that could possibly worry them.

Gawain pulled a chair up next to Lancelot and stared after the two youths. "Here, clean yourself up, you look worse then my mother's corpse." He threw a cloth over Lancelot's face.

"Thanks, you know eventually that girl is going to drive me to kill her?"

Gawain chuckled heartily at the thought; "I'd place my money on her." He saw the expression on Lancelot's face and couldn't help but laugh. "Lancelot eventually she is going to grow up. She is going to change, become a lady, an attractive one at that, I have no doubt."

"How could that _thing_ ever become beautiful?" His voice was rigid with dislike.

"One does not have to be beautiful to be attractive." Gawain pressed on, "my point is that one day you're going to wake up and she'll be happily married with five wonderful children and a loving husband, and your going to ask yourself why you ever drove her away." Gawain stood and picked up the empty goblet to take back to Vanora.

"It's going to rain." Lancelot's dark eyes gazed up at the clouded over sky.

"When it rains, it pours." The second knight turned to leave.

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"Arthur," a giant of a knight stood over Arthur's sleeping body. "Arthur, the caravan of Romans has arrived."

The Commander stirred awake. "They are here?" He gazed out the open window. Rain poured down drenching anything that dared to defy it. "They're three days early. I have to find Aislin." Arthur leapt out of his bed and headed for the chamber door, "Thank you Dagonet, please don't speak of this to anyone. I know Grockus will want a celebration, but until that time I want it kept quiet."

"Understood," Dagonet nodded and watched as Arthur departed out of the chamber and down the stone staircase.

The young commander made his way across the villa and down the winding halls that led to his cousin's bedchamber. He passed the fortress hall with its political air, the courtyard whose voice sang out pure gaiety, the stable where the horses nestled in their hay, he passed many servants who waltzed around their duties with a certain pride, but none of these things had mattered to him. Generally this normality would be pleasing to him; it would offer a sense of control and allow him to see that this place was actually destined for something. But not that night, that night dawned the change of his life.

For even if he was capable of talking the Roman suitor out of marriage to Aislin his life would have been altered by the sheer ignorance of the occasion. He was the Commander of the Sarmatian Knights, no matter that he was only seventeen, he was the Commander and Grockus had deliberately left him out of this arrangement. Arthur was not the man to be toyed with by false masks of generosity. He would assume command of this garrison; if not freely then he would take it by force with his knights at his side to ensure the prosperity of this village and Rome's cause.

Arthur only stopped his enraged argumentative thoughts when he came to halt in front of Aislin's door. He hadn't thought about what he would say to her, how he would explain that he was an ignorant fool for not seeing through Grockus and for allowing this plan to proceed. He hadn't even thought of how he would get her out of this situation only that he needed to. Perhaps he would take Lancelot's approach and tell the Roman's that she was a Woad, but what if it backfired? What if this man actually thought that the idea of marring a native fighter would prove an interesting life? What if he simply wanted to marry her to press her about the customs of the Woads, to find out their secrets so that he might use them in battle?

The young man ignored this ongoing war that he had waged in his mind and simply banged on the chamber door. "Aislin! Aislin, it is I, Arthur! I need to speak with you, please let me enter. Aislin it is of the utmost importance!" There was no answer only muffled movements, would she not open the door and let him in? Was she truly that angry with him? "Aislin this isn't a game! Cousin, halt you heated hatred for me for one moment so I might warn you of a pending danger!" At again no answer he raised his fists and slammed them into the door. He was about to do it again when the door opened and a scrawny young woman poked her head out.

"My Lord, I beg of you. Stop creating such a massive scene by banging on this door. I feel it would break under the sheer force you have placed it under." The woman squeaked out in a tantrum. "Your cousin is not even here, she went down to the courtyard to speak with Vanora. So I ask of you again stop harassing this door!" With her quarrel presented she turned and slammed the heavy door in his face just as he was about to speak.

"Well, she was a lovely maiden wasn't she?"

"Lancelot, please do not hold me back with your banter. I need to speak-."

"With Aislin, I know." He uncrossed his arms and walked toward his companion. "That is why I am here, but I fear you have already been warranted over half the information I wished to have presented to you."

Arthur's eyes were steady as he awaited the helpful information. "Go on."

"Aislin has been in the courtyard most of the evening, and I must say she becomes quite… what's the word? Ah, moody. Yes, she becomes quite moody when she is drunk." The younger man glared at Lancelot giving him fair warning not to continue on with the path he had chosen. "My point is she is drunk and with a rabble of men, but that should not be your main concern. She has Gawain and Tristan there to watch over her, she will be fine. What you need to worry yourself about is the caravan that has entered into this garrison, the same caravan that was greeted by nineteen Roman Legions and Grockus himself. These visitors were promised a feast and given fine clocks, Arthur, this was no early arrival."

"Grockus planned to have them come on this night to make it look as if they had simply arrived earlier then expected."

"No, not to make them appear early. Grockus plans to hide the family in one of the dwellings of the village until the morning of Aislin's birthday. That way he can make it seem as if they had arrived in the night whilst everyone was sleeping, effectively allowing the suitor to view his promised bride before you could have a say in any of it."

"But why? Why go through all of this trouble to get rid of my cousin? She has no effect on this fort, she hardly has any effect on anyone."

"I'm not sure, but if I had to make a guess I'd say it was because of you. Grockus knows you're the Commander of the Sarmatian Knights-."

"And as long as he removes Aislin, I am clear to forget my past, to forget Pelagius, my mother, everything that taught me equality, so that I might work under his rule." Arthur clenched his teeth together tightly trying his best to control his anger. "How did you acquire all of this information without Grockus knowing?"

"Let's just say I know his daughter very well, and we'll leave it at that." Lancelot's disease of a smile spread to Arthur and before he knew it he even laughed.

"One day Lancelot, one day you are going to mess up and break a woman's heart that you had no right to break and then where will your jests take you?"

"Into the arms of another maiden, I presume."

"You are hopeless, hopeless." Arthur started off past Lancelot but stopped when he smelled something of a rich liquor fuming from his friend. "Why do you reek of wine?"

"You can thank your cousin for me for that one," he pulled down a stench-enriched curl and let it bounce back. "I told you she is moody when she is drunk."

Arthur's face lit up with amusement as he turned to walk away, his laughs carrying down the hall. Even as Arthur had disappeared out of sight Lancelot still stood there scowling.

"I-I don't mind the smell of wine. I find it invigorating and exotic." The scrawny woman from Aislin's chamber was now standing in the hallway, her teeth tentatively gnawing on her lip. The young knight raised an eyebrow and allowed a sly grin to dance across his lips.

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Her laughter swirled up into the nearly clouded over night sky releasing some joy and tension at once. She leaned her weight against a table smiling insanely at how this one night of merriment had illuminated her soul so. "Aislin, perhaps you should lay down for some time. You look absolutely exhausted, love." Vanora's voice whistled through the thick air of drunkenness. She raised her eyes as the rain rolled off the roof and slowly began to stop, until all that was left was the wind.

"Perhaps you're right," her giggles fading into somberness. "I have been- WOOPS!" Aislin feet slid on a patch of spilled wine sending her crashing to the ground.

"Oh Aislin are you all right?" Vanora came calling to her, Bors and Galahad just behind.

"She's laughing like a mad woman! Ha!" Bors chuckled aloud.

"Bors!" His lover's glare caused him some momentary discomfort.

"She's fine, look at 'er! Just a little too much to drink is all. Here let me help you up," Bors took a hold of one arm as Galahad pulled from the other, successfully lifting her from the sodden ground.

"Why, thank you Bors and… hmm." She scrunched her eyes as she starred at Galahad. "And Dagonet!"

"What! Do I look that tall or that old?"

"Ah! It _is_ Galahad!" She smiled broadly, "thank you."

Vanora broke the awkward moment of stupor. "Galahad, I believe this Lady here, needs an escort back to her place of rest. Would you?"

"Surely my lady," with one clean swoop Aislin was over his shoulder and protesting as they marched down the pathway.

"I will not go back to that prison of a room! And you can't make me VANORA!" She screamed out as they turned the corner. "Horrible old crone. She has one child, ONE CHILD, and now she thinks she's the mother of everyone. Or is it everyone's mother, no I'm pretty sure it's the mother of everyone. OH HELL! WHAT IF EVERYONE DOESN'T WANT A MOTHER?"

"Will you pipe down up there? Do you want to wake the villagers'? I'm sure they'd be most pleased to see you at this hour of night."

"By now it's morning, and you just keep youreyes on where it is you are walking. Don't want to be dropped on my arse any time soon." At that moment Galahad halted causing Aislin's weight to shift backwards, effectively arising a scream from her throat.

"That wasn't funny!" Her hand collided with the back of his head.

"Ow! Of course it was! Ow! Will you not stop doing that?" He pleaded, rubbing the back of his head all the while.

"No!" And for good measure she did it one last time.

"Argh! That's it!" The young knight allowed his captive to plummet to the ground without any sympathy. "Serves you right, now you can escort yourself back up to your rooms. Goodnight, Lady." He gave a swift bow and turned his back to leave.

"You- OW!" She started to stand but found it very painful to move her butt. "Hmph, I guess I'm just stuck here until-."

"Do you need some assistance Lady?" Aislin lifted her gaze to an illuminated doorway where a young man stood gazing out at her.

"No, no I will be just fine, thank you." Her breathing wavered as she pulled herself onto her knees.

"It is no trouble of mine, here let me help you." He outstretched his hand for her to grasp. She took it tentatively, not entirely sure whom she would be dealing with once she stood. "There, a Lady should never be brought to her knees, for any reason."

Now that she was standing directly in front of the young man she was able to take in the full sight of him. He had long locks of auburn hair, a straight nose, thin rosy lips and a small scar that just grazed the corner of his forehead. But it was his eyes that held her gaze; the perfect mixture of blue and green, there was even a hint of gold. "You have the most marvelous eyes," she breathed, not noticing that she had begun to lean in closer to him.

His praising smile lit up his face, "thank you, Lady-?"

"Aislin, Lady Aislinarea Castus." At her name his expression changed to one of utmost interest. "And you sir, what is your name?"

"Marcus- erm… Marcus Progreum."

"How fascinating," she mused, her drunken stupor gaining the best of her. Aislin's lips were nearly on his, his warm breath grazing her cheeks with a sort of overwhelming delight.

"Yes, most fascinating indeed," he leaned in further pressing himself against her, their lips touching in a sheer moment of bliss. He could feel the burn of her lips on his and knew that she was the woman he came here for. He knew now that he would have her at all costs, if simply for the sweet taste of her lips and the gentle touch of her arms as they wrapped themselves around his neck.

But the moment was all too ruined by Aislin's exhaustion. Her body became limp in his arms as she passed into a deep sleep unaware of her previous surroundings. "Sleep my love, and dream. Dream of what is to come, dream of us." He spoke as if a little boy holding his hopes close to his heart.

"AISLIN! Aislin!" Arthur came clattering down the pathway and nearly ran Marcus over in an attempt to reach his cousin. "She's-?"

"Passed out is all, my lord. I helped her to her feet and in one quick moment she was back to dreaming."

Arthur outstretched his arms and took the burden of Aislin from the man before him. "Thank you, sir. I am sorry to have bothered you at such a late hour. Please forgive my cousin and I?"

"Your cousin," Marcus questioned under his breath. "Yes of course, it is of no trouble."

Arthur whispered his apologies once more before carrying on down the street. "Do not fear Aislin, I will not auction you off as a bride, nor allow anyone else to either. You may rest peacefully now."

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"What was that all about?" An older roman asked as Marcus entered back into his dwelling.

"Father, I have just met my bride to be." He smiled lightheartedly, "she is a very lovely young woman."

"I'm glad to see that this trip down here was not a waste after all."

"Father please, would you have me marry one of the giddy girls that flock around our garrison?"

"There is nothing wrong with a woman who idolizes her husband."

Marcus got up and leaned against the window starring out at the quiet fort. "I don't want someone to idolize me, I want a woman who will love me."

"You live in a fairy tale, my boy. Love does not exist."

"But it can someday," he threw in quickly under his breath. "Good night father, I shall see you in the morning."

"And your bride to be?"

"Perhaps."

AN: Very long chapter wouldn't you say…. So yeah you meet the fiancé…. Hmm whatcha think? I want him to come off kind of rude to his father but really a decent guy…. Sort of the opposite to Lancelot… who tends to be rude to Aislin and well genuinely nice to some other people… so yeah in the next chapter more Lancelot fun… woo hoo! Until then ta!


	8. Chapter 8: Decisions of an Ailing Heart

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:**

**Chapter 8: **

AN: I had received a review asking for ages of the knights so…

Arthur: 17

Lancelot: 19

Gawain: 18

Bors: 18

Tristan: 20

Galahad: 15

Dagonet: 20

Aislin: 15-16

I know it seems odd to have Arthur be only17 but in the beginning of the movie it was very noticeable that young Lancelot was older than young Arthur… at least I think it was so yeah… now to break it down… my story works with Aislin's age in 5 year increments. So after the next couple of chapters the story will speed up five years and she'll be about 20-21, and then the story will end once she is about 26 years of age… just to give you some guidelines so you can keep track of the knight's ages.

Now that that is out of the way… this is my absolute favorite chapter so far… ah it makes me so happy every time I read it… I hope you enjoy as much as I do.

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Her eyes lolled beneath their lids as she wrestled with night's dreams to awaken to day's life. As her eyes became exposed to the light she grimaced slightly but permitted them to continue seeking out the new dawn. At first she could only make out a black blob, but the longer she sat starring the more focused her vision became until she could see almost everything in her bedchamber. "Arthur!" After voicing her happiness a shock ran through her body causing her to press her hands to her head in pain. "Oh! They ring like bells! Arthur please make them stop!"

"Shh, Aislin. It is all right, here," Arthur rung out a moist cloth and patted his cousin's forehead with it. "This will pass within a few hours, until then you must relax." He turned to the young servant girl, whom so vigorously guarded the chamber door the night prior. "Water," the young woman nodded and left without so much as a word.

Aislin smiled up at her cousin forcing him to question himself, "what?"

"You will make a great husband someday. I envy the woman who shall have you as her protector and advisor." Arthur renewed the cloth by dipping it into the heated water basin. "I only hope that she deserves someone of your character."

"You speak as though we have never fought and that there is no problem pressing between us." He began patting her forehead again.

"I speak from my heart; for you have the will to choose your bride where I have not the privilege to choose my husband." She pulled his hand into hers, "I only mean to say that you have a future here, Arthur. You are the sworn leader of this Garrison, and you will make your parents proud, with or without me by your side."

"Cousin, you are my closest companion and my only blood relation still in existence. I would not loose you for the world, if I lost you what would I have left to remind me of my mother, of Pelagius?"

"Arthur you speak nonsense, you would have your memory. My matter is settled and there is nothing on it that we can argue."

"They are here."

"What?"

"I wasn't going to inform you until after you were feeling better, but seems how we are on the subject…"

"How? When? They're two days early!"

"The caravan arrived last evening. Grokus and a few of the legionaries greeted them at the gate and led them in secretly. They are said to be hidden in a dwelling within the village."

"But why? Why go through all the trouble?"

"To protect their interests."

"Me?" Aislin laughed blatantly, "what a foolish reason! Surely that is not all?"

"That is all that I know," he sighed in discontent.

"Based on what sources?"

"Me." Lancelot stood leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Forgive me, Lady, but he insisted upon entering and there was nothing I could say to dismiss him."

"That is fine, Keava, you may leave. Go spend some time outside in the gardens or take a walk, no need to be pent up in this villa if one does not need to be."

"Yes, Lady," she left as quietly as she had entered.

"So this is what your bed chamber looks like? I had hopped to visit it someday," he grinned shrewdly at her. "Just not under these circumstances, of course."

Before Arthur could protect his cousin's honor, Aislin swiped the vase that had been sitting peacefully on the bedside table and chucked it at him. The clay shattered against the wall and caused a mass hysteria of noise to ensue as it clattered to the floor. "I WANT HIM OUT! I WANT HIM TO LEAVE THIS VERY MOMENT! GET OUT!"

"You slag! How dare you throw a vase at me!"

"You self centered, egotistical, bastard! How dare you insult me in my own bedroom!" Aislin was sitting straight up in bed her fists clenched at her sides, ready to attack if need be.

Arthur had already been pushing Lancelot towards the door, trying his best to keep the two of them from waging their own war. "SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU! Lancelot, out of the room! Aislin I will be back in within a few moments." With one last shove he pushed Lancelot out into the hall and slammed the door behind him.

Aislin dropped back down unto her pillow, "oh, my head. I shouldn't have shouted." At that precise moment the tapestry above her bed unhooked and floated down over her. It covered her entire bed completely as if it were a blanket. "This is just lovely…Damn!"

-------

"She was out of line-." Lancelot pointed at the shut door hoping that that reason alone put up a good argument.

Without so much as a word or warning, Arthur punched his companion in the jaw. "Don't **ever** speak to her like that again!"

Lancelot moved his jaw around as he recovered from the shock of the blow. As he raised his eyes to Arthur's level he glared, and then rammed him into the opposite wall shouting, "it was only a mere jest!"

The young Commander knocked his knight's feet out from under him sending him crashing to the floor. "She is obviously not the woman for you to jest with!"

"Ah, but she is not a woman yet, is she?" In one quick motion Lancelot had knocked Arthur over and pinned him to the floor.

"So your taste is for children now, is it?" The younger man flipped his comrade off of him and pinned his arm against his throat.

Lancelot raised his knee to Arthur's groin removing the excess weight from his body. "I said that I wished to have visited her room someday, that does not mean today." He grinned idiotically, "I can wait two more days."

At that point it had become an all out battle between the two men. Each boasting threats to make a rise out of the other. The wrestling match would have continued had Aislin not opened the door and threatened both of them.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Her voice carried down the length of the hallway. "If you both insist on carrying on this horrid display of manhood you either do it outside where everyone is a witness, or continue in here where I have a vase waiting for each of you."

She watched as they untangled themselves and stood up in all of their disheveled appearance. Aislin couldn't help but laugh at the sight of them, "I'm sorry, I truly am." She closed the door slightly hiding herself behind it as she tried to contain her giggles. She opened it once more, "Okay, good. Now, Lancelot I presume you came here for a specific reason, other than to harass the hell out of me?"

"Actually-." A swift elbowing to his ribs by Arthur changed his thoughts on what to say. "Yes, I wanted to inform Arthur, and yourself, that we have found the Roman family."

Aislin's mood changed instantly to that of diplomacy, as did Arthur's'. "Well then, take me to them."

"Perhaps you'd like to wear a decent pair of clothes over the night gown?" Lancelot inferred.

The young woman slammed the door closed, ignoring the last remark.

-------

"This way," Lancelot led them into the fortress hall. As they entered Arthur took in the sight of all of the knights and a few legionnaires.

The family had been seated at the opposite of the table with Grockus to their left, along with the legionnaires that greeted them the night prior. Aislin entered and immediately stopped in her tracks as she recognized the young man. Her mouth was parted as if to say something but her tongue would not permit speech.

"Cousin, is there something the matter?" Arthur tried to decipher her emotion but failed in vain.

"Him, it was him all this time." Her face became pale with disbelief and her eyes watered over with tears of disgrace.

Arthur followed her gaze and instantly understood what she had meant. "Men, would you excuse us for a few moments. My cousin and I wish to speak a few words with our visitors in private."

"No, there is nothing of which I have to say that cannot be stated in front of them." Aislin stepped forward, her voice a little shaky, "you, you were watching me this entire time? You have placed shame upon me!"

The older man jumped to his feet in defense, "My son and I have done no wrong! It is perfectly within our right to select an appropriate woman for marriage!"

"Your right? Your right to study me as if I were some… some unknown creature? I will not be treated as a philosopher's theory!"

"We have done no wrong in our conduct! You-."

"Yes," the young man stood, "I have watched you, I have shammed you. I have acted immorally in the face of God and I beg your forgiveness." Marcus turned from his chair and jogged around to the other side of the table to where Aislin stood. "God forgive me, but you are more wondrous than anything I have ever witnessed. You are so real, so true that you out of all the people in this place caught my attention." He grasped her hands within his and massaged them tenderly between his thumbs. "When I first saw you, I knew who you were, I knew you were the woman for me. You are not like other women. You, Lady Aislin, are unique in the sense that you do not stand for wrongs against you or wrongs against others, you are not silent but flamboyant and joyous, you are content with your life and the lives of your friends and are not afraid to face that which is inevitable."

"How can you have deduced all of this from one night?"

"I am a very good judge of character."

"Marcus! She is a Woad!" His father called from behind him, "I wasn't going to tell you but now that I see how she truly is, how she stands I could never bid you marry her. She is a heathen!"

"You will speak no such insult or slander against my cousin!" Arthur pulled his sword from the sheath and aimed it towards the Roman. "Back down."

Marcus ignored his father's cry and proceeded on. "Will you be my bride, Aislinarea Castus?"

"I-I hardly know you."

"What would you like to know about me?"

She smiled nervously as she searched for a way out of this situation. He was so passionate in his words and feelings that she became overwhelmed. She didn't even know how she felt anymore; all that had become constant in her thoughts was their kiss. Aislin remembered every detail perfectly; the warmth of him against her, the sensation of his lips pressed upon hers, and the satisfying feeling of security his arms had offered her. Could she love this man?

"Aislin it does not matter, what little you know of me now will grow with every minute we spend together. We have years to figure out each other's secrets. Come, and marry me."

"Marcus!" The old man shouted once more.

"Or we can stay here. We can live here, as long as your cousin should permit it, of course." His miraculous eyes met Arthur's for approval.

Aislin, still in shock over the entirety of the situation, stood completely motionless. A tear slid from her eye; is this truly what she wanted? Did she want to marry, to have sons and daughters, to live with her husband and worry about his life, his safety? Yes, he went out on a raid, but is going to return? Her children, would they become fatherless? Would she raise them on her own? Could she raise them on her own? Their marriage, would it be a marriage of love or duty, or both? Another tear fell from her eye.

Galahad stepped out of the line of Knights and spoke up somewhat tentatively. "Uh, she can't marry you!" He stood silent for a moment, pondering over his next few words while everyone starred at him uneasily. "She can't marry you… yet."

"Why?"

"Uh, because… because she already has two other suitors! Yes, that's it. She already has two other suitors."

"Who?"

"Hmmm…..erm. Ah! Tristan!"

Tristan dropped the wine goblet that was in his hand, his eyes wide from astonishment. He turned outwards and glared down the line at Galahad who merely shrugged his shoulders. Aislin, on the other hand, looked as if she was going to steal Arthur's sword and make a fine meal out of the young knight.

"And the other?"

Galahad scanned the room, _can't say Arthur he's her cousin, nope not Dagonet – too quiet, not Bors – already has a lady friend, Lancelot? No, she'd surely kill me for that one. Ah Ha!_ "Gawain! Yes, Tristan and Gawain are her two other suitors."

"I see, well Grockus never informed me of any other suitors. But I don't mind a little friendly competition." He grinned at Aislin who smiled uneasily. "Perhaps we could compete for her hand?"

"Compete, how do you mean compete?" Gawain questioned, still very annoyed at the prospect of him being brought into this.

"Swords, shields? Arrows and bows? That sort?" Tristan posed, the foreigner nodded. "I'm in."

"Count me in as well." Gawain announced.

"Marcus, you can't be serious! You're challenging Knights?" The old man shouted once more.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." His gaze fell upon Aislin again, who had barely had the chance to adjust before she felt the familiar breathlessness of his kiss on her mouth. "I will win, for you." She watched from afar as he left the Fortress Hall with all the air of a Roman leader.

Arthur stood in just as much disbelief as his cousin, lost in a haze trying his best to find a way out. "Galahad," he began halfheartedly, "I believe there needs to be a few words exchanged between you and I before the end of tonight. Don't you agree?"

Galahad bit his lips and nodded before leaving, Arthur just behind him. Aislin stood in the center of the doorway watching as everyone dispersed from the most unusual meeting, doing her best to catch a glimmer of what might occur.

"This should prove to be most amusing, don't you agree?"

Aislin loathed the fact that it was always this man who would find her at these most stressing times. "If you consider amusing watching three men battle over my hand in marriage, two of which don't even wish to marry me or care for me in that aspect, then yes, it would be most amusing!" She released a deep breath, "how did I end up in this situation, Lancelot? I'm mean what good is this going to do me in twenty years?

"Well it may not do you any good, but you could be married."

She permitted herself to give a little chuckle at that prospect, "what is married life?"

"The same as a single life, just with a husband or wife that you now have to sneak around to get your pleasures."

The young woman lightly hit him in the arm, "you will never let anyone tie you down, will you?"

"Now that's an interesting prospect, I'll have to try that sometime." He blatantly laughed and was surprised to find Aislin laughing also. "No. By tied down, if you mean marriage, then no I will never let anyone tie me down. But that doesn't mean that love can escape me."

"Love? The great whore-hound can love?" Aislin jested boldly.

At first Lancelot just glared then managed to smile before he spoke up once more. "Yes, I'm actually very fond of the prospect of love. Fairy tale love, as your philosophers would state. It just seems so unlikely to feel in this time."

"We shouldn't have these conversations, you cause me to feel sympathetic towards you and I'm not sure that is a good idea."

"And pray tell, why is it not a good idea to feel sympathetic towards me?"

"Because women are of no consequence to you. They are merely play things for you to gain pleasure from."

"Ah, but you so quickly forget that I also give pleasure to them."

"See, sympathy is gone. No harm done after all."

"Ow, that hurt."

"I'd better be going."

"Where to?"

"Back to my bed chamber, where you will never step foot in again." Aislin headed out into the hall.

"Oh, but we could have such a great time in there." He stated as he followed her.

She turned, her dagger outstretched to his neck, "and I could kill you right here."

"Okay warning taken, I'll back off." Lancelot backed away and turned to head in the other direction. "But we really could have a great time, you know? You have no idea what you are missing!"

"I'd rather sleep with a corpse than with you!" She shouted after him as she sheathed the dagger back on her side.

-----------

"Do you really intend to fight for her, Tristan?" Gawain stepped out of the villa and into the moon's full light.

"For her? I don't want to win her hand but neither does she want to win the Roman's." He replied simply as he watched his companion take a seat on the steps beside him.

"So it is a duty then?" He sighed miserably.

"Do you want to win her hand?" Tristan's eyes peered out from underneath his untidy locks starring at Gawain effortlessly.

"No," he paused, "and yes. One of the two of us must win for her to be free, which is fine, but then are we not obligated to complete the task?"

"Obligation comes to those who serve, you do not serve her so you are not obligated to her."

"Not serving her, then what do you call this competition Galahad has so clumsily gotten us into?"

"Practice," Tristan stated with a grin.

--------------

The sun rose with a fire that tormented every stitch of Aislin's soul. She had been up since the dew had fallen, plainly watching everything that occurred just outside of her view. Her heart was troubled, for she had some interest in this man she barely knew, but at the same time was forced into her own responsibilities to herself. One could reckon that this was the event that would change the way Aislin lived simply because she would now have to live with her own decisions not just for Arthur's.

Her mind clamored with the possibilities of the day; who would win her hand, would she indeed have to marry? She did not want to marry; her heart was too free as it was to be tied down. _Tied down, heh, is that not what Lancelot said? He would never be tied down by marriage, perhaps that is not such a bad choice after all? What am I saying? I'm agreeing with a pig headed buffoon! _Aislin tossed her pillow across the room knocking her lute off of a marble stand, she watched as I splintered upon contact with the ground. "Wonderful! Just perfect! This day is certainly shaping up very nicely this morning! Argh!"

She moved over to her window, leaning her weight upon the sill as if to see just bellow her. Aislin watched anxiously as the three men who would fight for her began their practicing in the field just beyond her chamber. "I am not worthy of them."

AN: So yes… wonderful chapter eh? I loved it, thought it was brilliant… ha but that's just me. Tell me do you think: I made Lancelot a little too pushy? Or was it decent enough? Well I would greatly appreciate it if you would give me some feed back on this situation, thanks. The next chapter should be out at some point next weekend, okay? All right then… Ta!


	9. Chapter 9:Honorable Obligations

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:**

**Chapter 9:**

I apologize for the long wait, but I have been without internet for several months. We now have my internet up and running for good, hopefully. Please, if something like this should happen again read the note in my profile. I posted a note in there at the beginning of summer (while I was over a friend's house) that stated my internet was out, and apparently nobody read it. I received a lot of reviews (from other stories as well) asking and or telling me to update. So please check my profile next time. Thank you. Now on with the story!

Arthur sat impatiently in his bedchamber, his head buried within his callused palms, and his mind jogging over the predicament life had tossed him into. _I'm seventeen and the Commander of this Garrison! I shouldn't be attending to minute problems such as these. I should be out scouring the lands for our enemies, and preparing for attack. I should be fighting and defending!_ He sighed gaining what seemed to be another ten pounds of guilt to his shoulders.

_But then what of Aislin, I cannot simply abandon her. She is of my blood and among my companions. If anything were to happen to her I-I don't know what I would do. She's been with me since before the loss of my mother, since the loss of her mother. Her and I have a sworn duty to each other, this I know, it is not of a written treaty or pact. It is more like the agreement of our souls that we shall never let the other one despair in pain, and though she is strong, I fear she needs me the most now._ Arthur slumped onto his bed, ruffling the silk throw. _Ah, sleep. Pray, please fall over me._

A few hours later… 

"Arthur? Arthur, are you up?" Aislin stood just outside her cousin's bedchamber awaiting his answer. "Arthur, I can't sleep and I need someone to talk to! Please open up?"

She leaned against the door slightly and found herself stumbling into his unlocked room. "Well that was easy… Oh! He's asleep." She tiptoed around the room, watching him all the while.

He appeared to be laying in an uncomfortable fashion upon the bed, for he continually tossed and turned. Aislin found it quite amusing and reliving to know that the subconscious Arthur had just as many unnerving emotions as she had. Arthur had always appeared to her as calm and collected and to see him upset, even in his sleep, made her snicker with joy. Not paying attention in her efforts to sit down, she managed to slip straight to the floor and knock a basin of cold water from a stand onto her head. She let out a frigid scream as she shivered from the cold.

Arthur sat up immediately, one eye lazily half open as he surveyed his room for any problems. Now that both eyes were fully open he took measure of the door ajar then the young woman drenched and shivering behind a large metallic bowel. "Good Lord Aislin! What possessed you to do _this_?"

She lifted the rim of the bowel slightly so that she could peer out at her cousin. "I-I simply wan-anted to ta-alk with you izz all." Her words were slightly off due to her chills and shivering bottom lip.

Arthur laughed heartily as he strode over to the soaked nuisance that was his dearest companion. "You have a strange way of talking." He commented as he lifted the bowel from her head and tossed her a blanket. "Now what is it that is troubling you?"

"Everything!" Her speech was becoming better with every moment she became warmer. "What izz there not f-for me to bee worried about? I-I have three men due-dueling each other thizz morning. I can barely sleep, l-let alone th-think."

"Aislin," Arthur pulled her in his arms as they knelt beside each other on the floor. "You are not to blame for this, you must not pour all of this guilt onto yourself."

"I may not bee t-to blame, but I-I am the cause."

"Fine, you can be the cause and I'll be the blame. Problem solved. See how easy that works out?"

The young woman gave a swift jab to her companion's ribs in a playful manner. "That hasn't solved anything. I'm not a child Arthur; I'm only a year and three months younger than you. Do not play such games with me, not now at least. I'm too distraught."

"You were always the more mature one out of the two of us, always finding simplistic ways to solve the problem, and never truly relying on anyone else. Do not tell me you need me _now,_ to aid you in a miniscule situation such as this?"

"I've always needed you Arthur, it just so happens that you got me into this mess, so you're going to help get me out."

"Ah, I see. We have finally rounded on the blame. The cause is no longer sufficient enough."

"Precisely," Aislin stood from the embrace, the blanket wrapped tightly around her. "Now get ready, the competition starts within the hour." Aislin smiled awkwardly before vacating the chilled room.

"What a haughty woman she will turn out to be."

---------------

"Pick your opponent!" Shouted Bors, who volunteered for the occupation of ringleader to this circus of stupidity.

Marcus stood at the center of the courtyard, Bors to his side, and directly in front of him were his opponents, Tristan and Gawain. All around them a crowd of people had gathered to watch the exciting events of that morning, and at the very heart of it all was the decision of Marcus and Aislin's relationship. The young man stood with a noble air, his auburn hair waving in the wind whilst his legs were firmly set to the cobblestone. But what allowed his appearance to be so regal was in fact his sword. The silver metal glinted in the sun's rays, exposing on its hilt beautiful craftsmanship of vines that read Latin versus swirling and slinking its way around a single black jewel, an onyx.

Aislin couldn't help but marvel at his strong presence once faced with a challenge. She wondered if he served every obligation in his life with such passion and devotion. _How can he grant so much love and honor to someone he hardly knows?_

Marcus raised his sword, the tip extended out towards Gawain's neck. "I challenge you first."

"So be it," pronounced Gawain through a pompous visage.

"Tristan, back over to the crowd," Bors nodded to the numerous bodies that had turned up in chairs to see the spectacle with their own eyes.

Tristan sauntered carelessly toward Arthur and Aislin finding a suitable seat on the gravel. "He's afraid," his chuckle was more disturbing than Aislin had liked.

"At least he was intelligent enough not to choose you first. He'll play the crowd with Gawain, so that if he succeeds he wins their heart and somewhat of an approval from Arthur as a skilled soldier. Then he can challenge you, and if he loses-."

"He will," Tristan butted in.

"_If_ he loses he will at least have gained our sympathy and perhaps our love." Aislin finished in a poetic voice, almost as if she was a prophet reporting her prophecy to the pope himself.

"You speak as though you intend to love him, do you?" Arthur pondered curiously.

"I intend nothing, dear cousin, only suspect. That is all a woman can do in these times is suspect and be a spectator." She sighed, "but I am also worried." _What am I saying? I feel as though I've read a verse from God or something so poetically important. Why does he allow me to poses such feelings? Will I love?_

"He is a coward," whined Galahad as he stepped up beside Aislin. "He would have challenged Tristan first if he was brave."

It only took a fraction of a moment for Aislin to smack him upside his head. "Did you not hear what I just said?" Galahad cowered to the side in fear of another offense.

"Weapons in hand!" Bors voice brought everyone's attention back toward the duel. Aislin found herself shaking slightly in the rush of excitement, Arthur took her hand to help calm her nerves and she thanked him for his kindness.

"It is only a playful challenge not a duel to the death. You have nothing to fear, my cousin." His voice had been lowered so that she was the only one who heard.

"I know, I just don't seem to know who I am lately," she confided her voice rigid with worry.

"You'll do fine. You are as strong as you are willful and not one of my knights could disagree with that." Arthur paused gripping her hand somewhat tighter, "Please do not fret. You are too good a person to let such a thing as this cause a flicker of fear to reside in your heart."

Aislin nodded and in biting her lip she let go of Arthur to stand on her own and watch the scene unfold. Her long strands of hair blew in and out of her face with the breeze though her gaze never faltered. She knew this whole fiasco had been conjured for her own person, though she did not feel honored nor did she dress as an honored person would. Instead she had donned a rather ragged garment that seemed not to have been worn in atleast six years. The black cloth was not flattering to her light complexion at all and looked almost deathly upon her body, but perhaps that is why she wore it.

The young woman's eyes flickered helplessly as Marcus' feet slid back in the gravel from the force of Gawain's blow upon his sword. Her heart raced to watch such grotesque violence between two men. How one could stand to battle as they did was beyond her comprehension at that time. She scaled along the crowd catching glimpses of the dark art through gaps in the audience, sometimes seeing a raised sword other times simply hearing the clanging. She had not wished to see much of it at all for fear her heart would burst with anticipation.

Then, as soon as it had begun it was over and parts of the crowd roared with glee while others were arguing about the debt they owed on their bet. "MAKE WAY PLEASE! MAKE WAY!" Aislin shoved herself through the mesh of people and into the center of the arena, so to speak.

Her breath quickened in her throat and she felt pressure build up and wrap itself around her chest, there was to be yet another duel. Aislin's eyes lowered to those of Gawain's whom had been lying with his back on the ground, a sword at his throat. He would later tell Aislin that it was not by skill he was defeated but by his clumsiness in tripping over a rock. Briefly the young woman's eyes met those of Marcus' and with a quick sigh, almost of relief, she turned and protruded back through the crowd.

Marcus removed the blade and helped Gawain to his feet, they shook hands and then Gawain disappeared into the mist of people. The young man was now alone and at the center of attention, he had a chance, or so he was allowed to suspect. His eyes became heavy as Tristan entered the ring that had formed around them, a single curved blade was gripped tightly within his hand, and he looked unmistakably fierce. Marcus unwillingly shuttered, but soon gained control of his nerves reminding himself that he was simply another man.

"READY?" Questioned Bors elatedly.

"If I should fall to your sword," whispered Marcus, "then finish the deed. For I shall have no other honorable obligation to another man if not to have a somewhat small but significant obligation to her."

"As you wish," muttered Tristan impassively.

"BEGIN!" Shouted Bors above all other commotion.

The fight began rather hastily; Tristan's movements were more defined and smooth as if one was writing a rhythmic poem, whereas Marcus' movements were more bold and choppy as if one was butchering a beast. Aislin squirmed uneasily at the sidelines following the battle with tense eyes. _This would be the decider,_ she thought absently. Her heart thumped as she watched Marcus' take bruise after bruise from the sheer force of Tristan's impact. At one point Tristan caught Marcus off guard and pelted him with the hilt of his sword. It was obvious that Marcus was well out of his league and exhausted from the previous duel, there was no way he could win.

Aislin rung her hands anxiously as she stood just to Arthur's side. She couldn't help but struggle with her emotions; this man, this courageous man had done all of this, went through every obstacle imaginable purely for her love. Does he not deserve it after all of this?

Marcus found himself cornered, his grip weakening and his eyes becoming heavier with every passing moment, he was finished. He barely even noticed his sword being tossed from his hand, or the impact of the gravel upon his knees. What he did notice was Aislin; her caring eyes filling with tears, those willful and empowering eyes. He longed to hold her once more, to feel her sweet breath warm on his cheek once again, he took a final breath and tried his best to remember her as she was with him the other night. The moonlight glimmering on her face and shinning through drenched hair, allowing it to glisten. "Aislin," he murmured as he closed his eyes awaiting the final blow that was sure to come.

"STOP!" Marcus' eyes flew open amazed and astonished at what he was witnessing.

Aislin was breathless and shaking, her gown billowing around her rigid legs. She had seen Tristan's objective, had known his movements all too well enough to suspect his final decision. Her body was positioned directly in between Tristan and Marcus, her left hand unknowingly gripping the blade of Tristan's sword. Her blood ran down the length of the blade and dripped off the tip, staining the ground with its crimson ink.

"I was not aware that the rules had been changed," she vented exasperatedly, "to suit the demise of the defeated."

"He asked it of me," Tristan explained halfheartedly.

Aislin took a moment, now feeling the twinge of pain from the blade imbedded in her flesh. "I forbid it, and since I am the one for which you are fighting, you **will** obey it." Her eyes flashed with an indescribable harshness, one she hardly knew of herself. "Please Tristan," she pleaded softly.

The knight stretched out his free hand and gently removed her palm from his sword. He stuck the blade into he gravel and examined her hand, now with both of his. "It is not too deep," he paused, his voice low to match hers. "I can wrap it if you wish."

"Thank you, but I think I can manage it." She pulled her hand from his coldly, and formed a fist with it allowing more blood to seep out between her clenched fingers. Aislin then opened her palm and pressed her hand against his cheek, "so you always remember whose blood you split on this day." She smeared her blood on his flesh then sauntered off back through the awed crowd.

"Aislin!" Arthur called after her as he jogged away from the scene and through the winding corridors of the villa. "Aislin stop!" She was just in front of him, tripping and stumbling over her own gown.

The young woman flung herself behind a pilar, tears cascading down her red face. Arthur stepped into the shadow of the pilar, standing just in front of his cousin. "Arthur, I don't know what to do. I have nowhere to turn," she sobbed as she leaned her weight onto him, burying her face into his shoulder. "I feel so unbelievably helpless."

"Shh," he rubbed her back soothingly, "we'll find a way to work this out. Please do not worry yourself. You are too strong for this."

"Strong," she whimpered. "I am not strong at all. I fear so much, too much. I just… I just want it to end. Why is God so cruel? Why must my heart suffer so?" Her heated tears dripped onto his jerkin. Aislin spent most of the night standing there, pouring her mind out to Arthur's suggestions in hope that it might relieve some of her stress.

Dawn burned brightly the next morning, causing Arthur's eyes to sting from their lack of rest. He had learned so much about Aislin the night prior, so much he had never learned before. But what frightened him the most was her humanity that below the tough outer shell of her being was a timid little girl with fear buried deep within her heart. The one thing that he could always depend upon Aislin for was her potency and her valor. After all she was the one person he knew to have suffered as much as him, but now not even that allowed him to depend upon her.

He looked upon her for so long, too long as one of his companions, a knight even. But a knight she was not, she was indeed a woman and perhaps it was time Arthur began to treat her as one. Last night had simply proven this concept for him; he could not be the commanding officer of this garrison if he had to take responsibility for her willfulness as well. She would merely have to embrace her place as a woman now that she was officially sixteen. This seemed reasonable to him.

-----------

Around mid-day Aislin had finally worked up the courage to speak with Marcus. His father and him were busy emptying their hut of their things and packing it into their caravan. Her hair was loose and drifting aimlessly around her shoulders, but she had not noticed for she was too consumed in her thoughts to care. As she turned the bend she stopped and starred out at them working diligently, one arguing with the other on why they should and shouldn't have come here. For a brief moment she though how much it would please her to see Marcus stay within reach, but then she came back to her reality that it merely was not possible for either of them.

She took small light steps towards the dwelling trying her best to appear as though she hadn't intended on heding this way but since she was here she might as well stop to chat, it didn't work. Marcus' father stood in the door frame, a clay pot clenched within his arms as he stared indignantly at her. "I was wondering if… if I could have a word with your son," Aislin murmured, "please."

The older man turned and shouted into the hut, "Marcus, you have a visitor!" He then headed down to the carriage and propped the clay pot in it.

Marcus appeared in the archway where his father had just stood. "Aislin," he spoke almost breathlessly. "What are you-."

"I thought you might want to walk with me," she jumped in, "that is, if it is fine with your father?"

"My father _will not_ mind if I go on a walk," he jogged down to her his eyes fixed on hers. "Shall we?" She nodded curtly and started down the pathway with him.

After an hour of small talk about what their lives had been like before they met Marcus broke in a conversation about the day prior. "It took courage to do what you did yesterday."

"Courage," she laughed bitterly. "Courage to stand up for someone who has no right to be punished, a child has that kind of courage."

"But perhaps not the strength to use it," he jutted in. "You had no fear of that sword and barely even felt it when it had sliced your hand." He lifted her bandaged hand to her eye level.

"That is not courage; I have never fought in a battle against numerable odds, or spoke for a culture's freedom, or risked my life for another's. You might say that standing between you and Tristan was risking my life, but it was not. I refuse to fear my brother's sword; never have, never will." She noticed the perplexed look upon Marcus face and realized she had said something she should not have.

"Your brother?"

Aislin bit her lip, "well not exactly my brother. But he still referred to as the same." She gave Marcus a sympathetic look, "I know you don't understand. You see, six years ago I was brought to this fort by my aunt, I told you this. About a year later the knights arrived, you also know that. But what you don't know is the true relationship between Tristan and me. He was the only knight at that point in time who had dared to protect me from jests and the harsh insults created by the other knights. At first I hadn't understood why, but then he explained it to me. He had once had a sister, the same age as I, who died due to an ailment.

"He was very close to her, and so in meeting me he saw a bit of her as well. And thus goes our tale of kinship." Aislin laughed cheerfully, "no one around here dares insult me for fear of Tristan. He and Arthur are my sworn protectors, you see?" She had stopped walking and was now facing Marcus dead on, "his love for me is of a brotherly nature, that is why he protects me." She swallowed hard, "I can't deny that I…I care for you. But I cannot allow there to be love between us. I am too troubled and too independent, I fear, to ever be close to a man without giving up a part of who I am."

"I don't want you to change, Aislin. I love you for your spirit, for that wonderful spark you emit into peoples lives. You and your cousin, Arthur, have the power to change in people what they cannot change themselves, the ability to allow them to see their faults and to mend them. Do not change, my love, for that would certainly be the death of me." His hand warm on her cheek he leaned in and kissed her deeply. When their lips parted he took her hand in his and pulled her to the stable," here, there is something of which I intended on giving you."

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By sunset Marcus' caravan was leaving the garrison and Aislin was anxious to say her parting farewells. "Let us see how you fare at riding shall we?" She suggested to her newly acquired transport.

Aislin rode the beast hard up the length of the grassy hill, her hair and gown whipping in the wind. "Almost there," she whispered to the animal's ear as they neared the top. Gallop after gallop they came increasingly closer to the crest until it was finally upon them. "Now!" She screamed, as she pulled back hard on the creature's reigns causing it to nay and stand back on its hind legs.

Marcus turned around in his carriage as he watched Aislin with marveled eyes. His father, perched next to him, slapped Marcus on the back. "You gave her the horse anyway! That was to be solely for you wife! Now what are we going to do when we find you another bride?"

"There will not be another bride," muttered Marcus distractedly as he continued to stare back at the young woman.

Aislin patted the neck of the gallantly black horse as it became settled once more, "Shh, calm now Ladiah. It is done."

She thought back on the last conversation Marcus and her had had:

_"She is for you. My father and I brought her here as a wedding present for my bride, but I couldn't think of giving to anyone else."_

_"Marcus, I… I couldn't. She's so beautiful and strong, but I can't accept her. She is meant for your bride and I am not that woman."_

"There will never be another bride, not for me. Please, I want you to have something to remember me by. Look, she likes you." He pointed out the fact that the horse was nuzzling my neck, I couldn't help but oblige, and after all I was sincerely taken with the horse. "Thank you."

Aislin waved one last time and continued to sit atop her horse, Ladiah, and watch as Marcus' carriage slowly disappeared from view.

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AN: Ah, I love this chapter! It contains my favorite quote of the story so far: "If I should fall to your sword… then finish the deed. For I shall have no other honorable obligation to another man if not to have a somewhat small but significant obligation to her." I was so proud of that line, I thought of it all by myself… not that I haven't written this whole thing by myself… but hey what can I say? It makes me happy. I had so much fun writing Marcus' character, and to think originally I wanted the audience not to like him? I feel stupid because I actually fell for his character; it's such a pity he had to leave. Though I will mention he will have somewhat of a brief part to come later down the road. Not big so don't get too excited.

Also, some of you may think that Aislin is a tad too mature for her age based on the things she says. But I strongly disagree, for one reason: based on how her life has spanned so far (death and grief) I believe she deserves to be mature. Secondly: I am only sixteen and If I can write this story and think this maturely I think it is fair enough to say that she, who lives in a much harsher world, can be just as mature. So yeah, I wasn't arguing with anyone because no one has brought it up for me to argue about. But before you were given the chance to say anything about it I wanted to just point out those two factors to better help you understand her character.

With that said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry again for not updating that fast… my computer is driving me bonkers! I have other chapters that I am posting today as well.


	10. Chapter 10: The Air of New Times

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:**

**Chapter 10: The Air of New Times**

Lancelot lazily sauntered toward the village stables, a reign loosely dangling from his hand. His mind was wreck yet he displayed nothing less of a jovial appearance. He must have been consumed in his positive mood for as he entered he paid no heed to Aislin tending to her horse. She on the other hand, had noticed him and with great effort decided to be civilized. "Good morning!" The young woman shouted over the neck of her black mare.

The knight hadn't even lifted his eyesight to match hers he simply spoke coolly, as he was accustomed to doing. "And how is the little love bird this morning? Still mourning the loss of your betrothed?"

Aislin sighed realizing that a decent conversation would never be possible between the two of them, especially with all of his irking inquiries. "I was not in love with him else I would not have let him go." She explained through clenched teeth. Meandering around the horse in an effort to place the saddle on.

He entered his horse's stall and hung the reign halfheartedly upon its mount. "So it was all just for a good time?" Lancelot prodded.

"Never would I steep my morale so low as to touch yours, Lancelot. Never." Aislin stated flatly as she walked Ladiah passed his stall making her way from the stables.

"Ah," the knight chuckled enthusiastically, "You are a noble creature then? Be gone before your miraculous morale rubs itself upon my filth of a soul."

"At least you can admit it."

"Admit what, that I am a horrible being? All men are horrible in their own way; it is simply in their nature. Women are the holy beings that smear away a man's past and bring a change to their lives. Which is precisely why I will not marry." Aislin listen almost intently as he spoke. She tried to push herself from the ground as if to mount but found it slightly difficult. Her body slid backwards and would have hit the solid ground if it had not been for Lancelot's arms around her stomach.

She had been left in a state of awe, hesitation crept over her being, and for a brief moment she longed to reside there within the protection of his embrace. She closed her eyes and quickly shook the feeling away, she would not let herself feel anything but distaste and pity for this man. When she finally mounted the saddle, with a little help, she pulled off her calm air once more. But not before the two of them had exchanged a look of bewilderment that had satisfaction buried deep within its core. Perhaps this would be the beginning of something great. " Philosophers are we?" Or perhaps it would be the shunning of a great thing that may never be allowed to exist.

"With any luck, maybe."

"Hmph," Aislin nudged her horse toward the opening of the stable without so much as a backward glance. She nearly made it out into the field when her noble cousin came around the bend.

"Aislin! Aislin stop for a moment," he called out to her in vain. Her horse was already galloping out towards the green grass of the field.

"Arthur, forget it. You've made an attempt and that is well enough in itself. But did you honestly think that you'd stop her from riding?" Lancelot advised as he sauntered joyfully from the stables, wiping his dirty palms on an old scrap of cloth. "Or being the willful _woman_ she is?"

"Since when did you become the expert on my cousin?" The commander pondered cooly, his eyes never leaving those of Lancelot's.

"Since you began protecting her from me," he laughed childishly. "Arthur you have grown, you have matured…somewhat." He allowed a minute grin to cross his face, "now let her."

"She is mature, she handles the same situations that I have, only better. I should think she was more fit to be commander than I." The young man roared on, now walking down the road with his comrade.

"Yes, she deals with the situations. But have you not noticed the blockade she puts up when she does? Like she is doing now?" Arthur's eyes delved deep within his advisor's. "She does not talk to much of anyone, and especially stays away from you." Lancelot noticed the pleading look in Arthur's face; he was alone without her. "I don't know why she puts up the barrier, perhaps so she can think. Though, Arthur she needs time, as you needed time. Time to find herself."

Arthur took a moment to think over these words and then found it to be humorous for Lancelot to be the one telling him this. "What has changed you, Lancelot?"

The older knight was taken aback, "changed? I haven't changed."

"You have become understanding." Arthur watched silently as Lancelot shrugged it off and headed back to the villa. But Arthur stayed, thinking this over. He entered the stable wondering down its long corridor before stumbling over a necklace. It was nothing more than a trinket and yet oddly much more than that. It was made from short black shells that strung around the neckline and dangling down were longer more narrow shells that glistened the world's colors on its black hide. Assuming it was Aislin's, he decided to hold on to it.

-------

"One day, Ladiah, we will be free to roam wherever we wish. Not just in this caged field, but out in the open and through the forests." She patted the mare's neck. "You would like that, wouldn't you?" As if to respond the horse began to kick up dirt with its front huff. The cloud of dust began traveling and dancing in the wind. "One day."

That day Aislin rode hard, her horse uprooting the dead earth as they galloped through. The wind blew in her sun-lightened tresses, meticulously tangling them with one another. Though she didn't care, all she felt was the rush and power of her freedom away from the wretched life she was born into. How things had become so complicated for her and Arthur, she did not know, but nonetheless they were.

Nothing had stopped her that day; she had held nothing back. And as the days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years she still rode just as hard, just as determined.

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**FIVE YEARS LATER:**

The snow cascaded down over the land deflecting everything in sight. A cloaked rider entered the gates of Hadrian's Wall hurriedly, their body soaked through with the first storm of the season. The mysterious being dismounted their horse and handed the reigns to the stable hand, Joules. Then, in noticing the commanding officer of the garrison took a few strides toward the man and knelt before him in an honoring way.

The cloaked person rose without command and began to speak plainly to the officer. "Arthur, the crops are going to be washed away when the snow melts if we don't do something to protect them, the seeds are going to go southward and end up in the lake if we're not careful. Then come spring we have no food!"

"I assure you I have taken measures, my dear cousin." Arthur raised his hand to her hood and pulled it from her face. She had aged, though not terribly. Aislin still held some of the child-like charm she used to have and smiled just as wonderfully. Though her vibrant eyes had relaxed and her bright hair had dulled she was above all else a mature woman. Arthur escorted her back toward the villa, exchanging his dry cloak for her drenched frigid one.

"Aislin, I care more for the people than I do for battling the Woads, you know this. So please understand I do what I must to ensure their safety." He paused, scratching his chin in aggravation. "You should not have run out like that."

"And risk us loosing our spring crop?" Her anger flared within her words.

"Cousin, you know I protect these people, and so I protect their way of life. Don't you think I've thought of this before?" Arthur halted their aggressive walking. "You should not be galavanting out in the snow, what if you were to fall ill?"

"If it were to save dozens of lives from starvation, I would gladly become ill." She nearly screamed at him.

"Damn Aislin!" Arthur released in frustration as he watched his cousin leave in her fury. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Thank you for the cloak!" Was all that she said in response before turning down a side street and leaving him utterly alone.

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"You seem somewhat tense," inquired Galahad as the storm of a young woman brushed by. He bravely followed behind her, "do you want to talk?"

"Not truly," Aislin waved him off with the back of her hand.

He didn't get the message, "well good, I can do all of the talking. I have been dying to tell someone."

"Tell someone what?"

"Ah, see. I got you interested." He chuckled softly and barely missed the door slamming in his face. "Fine, if you won't let me in I'll just…"

"You'll just what?" She questioned arrogantly from the other side of the door.

It took him a moment to answer, "I'll just sit out here and wait."

The young woman couldn't help but laugh, "you do that; but I'll warn you, you'll be out there for a while."

"I think I can handle it."

Aislin rolled her eyes in disbelief before pulling from the fire pit the pan of heated water. She poured the translucent liquid into the small marble pool, watching as the steam rolled from the surface. Aislin had always found the bathing room to be the most relaxing, and enjoyed her time within its mist.

She stepped in carefully, allowing her hair to fan out around her in the water as she relaxed. Aislin was immediately transported into another place, her mind free of its troubles and the heavy snow falling just outside the walls. "You know I hear from… ahem… well a reliable source that the bathing room is the best place to have one's… erm… fun." Aislin's eyes flew open, and even though he was on the outside of the door, she couldn't help but hear every word Galahad had said.

"Galahad, I beg you, do not tell me any more of Lancelot's little endeavors." She sunk her head into the water trying to block out Galahad's voice.

"Oh, I was referring to Bors."

Aislin's scream must have echoed off every wall in that room because it was amplified in the hallway. Galahad had to plug his ears to avoid the pain of her piercing shriek. A few moments later the door opened and Aislin stepped out, fully clothed in a lengthy rose gown that hung loosely over her shoulders. Galahad, due to his weight against the door, fell backwards onto her feet.

"I hate you," she commented coldly.

"It's a delight to see you, too."

"Off my feet," she shoved him from her sandals and waltzed on by.

"You know its funny," Galahad continued rambling as he cautiously followed behind the enraged woman. "That when you thought it was Lancelot I was speaking of you didn't mind staying in the room," he paused glancing at her with scrutinizing eyes, "but the moment I said it was Bors I was indeed speaking of, you became repulsed. I wonder why that is?"

Aislin halted suddenly and flung around to face him, her face contorted into a threatening mask. "Exactly what are you getting at?"

"Oh, nothing," he spoke innocently, "nothing at all. I am merely curious."

"Well, in that case I would be delighted to enlighten you on my reasons." She started to trip over her words slightly, not quite sure where she was going with her statements. "You see, well… is it not true that Lancelot erm… well is everywhere? It is only natural to become accustomed to hearing such things and eventually to become numb to them. Originally I was repulsed by it, just as much as I am repulsed by Bors endeavors now, but you see Lancelot's stories have grown on me- everyone, have grown on everyone."

"And now you are numb?"

"Yes! No! Everyone is numb… well… Argh!" She grunted in frustration and headed down the stairs. "You are trying to trick me, and I don't think I like it."

"Oh come on, just admit it! You like the guy!" He shouted down after her.

"There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING in this world that could make me feel anything for him! He is a pompous self-absorbed pig-headed cur and I pray no woman be dumb enough to dare love him!"

"Except you?"

"Yes! What? No! You bastard! I'm never speaking with you again!" Aislin ignored his laughter and continued her way down the stairs, her face flustered and heated. At the bottom she nearly ran into Bors. "You! You are a filthy vile chat!" The young woman shoved by and raced towards her chamber with out another word.

Bors stretched his neck to look up at Galahad, "what have I done this time?"

"It is a long tale," Galahad spoke hoarsely through his joyous laughter.

---------

Eventually Aislin slowed her pace, allowing herself the time to catch her breath while she made sense of her thoughts. "I can't… _feel_ for him, he's a horrid brute of a man. Galahad was wrong, I am not in love with-."

"With who?" Aislin's heart skipped a beat; her face drained of all its color and then blushed just as quickly at the sight of Lancelot. "My Lady, are you blushing? For me?" He stepped lightly out of the shadows of the adjacent corridor. "I don't think this has ever happened before."

The young woman swallowed hard, "I merely am… tired from my duties this afternoon. And my face is flushed not blushing." Aislin brushed by him only to be pulled back as he grabbed her upper arm.

"What sort of duties would one have in the afternoon that would flush one's fa-." He stopped, simply broke his sentence as he noticed the necklace laced around the woman's neck. Lancelot starred at it, his eyes fixed upon its rainbow of blackness.

"Lancelot?" Aislin had almost immediately forgotten about their conversation and now was busy feeling awkward. His fingers trailed over the shells of the necklace, something about its value or meaning had entranced him. "Arthur had given it to me," she tried to break up the embarrassing air between them. "He said he found them in the stables one day, years ago. I guess he assumed it was mine." She giggled uncomfortably.

The knight had stopped tracing over the shells and had dropped his arms back to his sides. In the ten years she had known this man not once had he behaved like this; it was as if he was stuck in a memory, fixed in his thoughts. Aislin felt she needed to say something more, there had to be something she could do. "If it is yours, you can have it back." She pulled her fingers to the tie at the nape of her neck and undid the string of shells. Aislin lifted his hand and allowed the necklace to fall gently in his palm.

The unnerved woman bit her lip nervously; "I never had much use for it anyway." Not another word was passed between them; neither knew how to react to the other through words, who would?

Just as Aislin was about to leave the silenced knight had pulled her into an embrace. There were no words that could express the emotion that surged through Aislin; her blood raced and her mind jogged, but her heart was whole. She let herself hold him; her head resting on his shoulder, her body became frozen in that position.

Aislin lifted her face to peer into his dark eyes, was this how it felt to love? His breath was warm on her cheek and slowly his face began to move towards hers. She felt it coming, her body quivering with anticipation. She wanted this, she knew that now, deep down inside she had always wanted this. His lips were nearly on hers.

"Aislin!" Loud knocking echoed in the young woman's ears and she jolted awake, still wearing her rose colored garment from earlier. "Aislin, are you all right?" The man on the outside of her chamber door called.

"Yes Joules, I'm fine." She caught her breath as she dabbed her face with a towel.

"Arthur has asked for your presence down in the meeting hall." He paused, "He says it's urgent."

"Yes, I'll be down in a few moments. Tell him not to wait on me." She responded halfheartedly.

Aislin waited until she could no longer hear his footfalls before giving into her tears. She put her face into her hands and let herself go. "Galahad was right, I do care." She groaned in frustration, "I don't want to care! I want to hate him!"

The woman threw herself from her bed and sauntered angrily over to her balcony, "what has become of me over these last couple of years? Why should I feel this way for him? Perhaps it is simply a phase. Yes that is what it is, a phase. I will grow out of it."

----------

"There has been news of a Roman supply ship landing to the east. Due to the snow storm the crew was not able to control much of the ship and roughly landed forty miles north of here and because of the amount of the damage done to the ship they would not last at sea if they tried to turn around. It is our duty to see that the Roman soldiers, merchants, and supplies reach our garrison safely and with haste." Arthur's voice boomed through the door, echoing ceaselessly in Aislin's mind. An uproar had began in the hall, little could be comprehended from in the corridor outside any longer.

_Forty miles north…that's deep into the Woad's territory! Please someone, anyone object to this order! Please!_ Aislin took a deep breath and tried to exert as much strength and courage through her limbs as possible, and with a push of her arms the weighty doors to the meeting hall slunk open. She was the only woman within that chamber and with such a dramatic entrance all eyes were on her. Aislin had past every knight seated or standing at the round table with as little emotion as possible. As she past Lancelot on her way to Arthur she couldn't stop her fingers from trailing over the necklace laced around her pale gullet, she even thought she saw his eyes flicker. Brave Lancelot, how he would ravage a thousand maids and kill nearly double in combat, allowed one woman's, one girl's childish antics to stir something indescribable in him.

When she came to stand next to her towering cousin she found it hard to breath let alone speak with any willpower. The young woman swallowed her pride, gently closed her eyes, and then reopened them. But the texture of those eyes had changed; they were now stern and unrelenting, cold even. "I firmly oppose this course of action!" Aislin drew in a sharp breath, "the path through the Woad territory is extremely dangerous not to mention lethal. Many of you who would go would never return to see our glorious gates again as mortals. Not only are the natives who live there harsh, but the native land as well. It is true that the winter season is nearly up but is that not when the storms hit us the hardest? There are mountains upon mountains to the north, I cannot say that they aren't beautiful but they will surely bring the demise of some of you who are ignorant enough to go.

"I am a woman and have no true authority here, but please take my warning to heart. The path you set out on has its own fate, do not think that God will protect you." The knights watched with curious eyes, some of disbelief and other with awe, Arthur was even taken aback by her words. "I shall take my leave of you all now." The young woman with out so much as a hint of kindness turned and strode fiercely toward the massive double doors.

She trembled terribly as she marched by, her body simply falling to pieces, and for a fleeting moment she allowed Tristan to see her pain before shoving it off again and leaving. After her departure the uproar began again and Arthur once more was forced to tame the lions. Though interested in what Arthur wanted to say, Tristan found it difficult to listen to his persistent speech after such a powerful warning. He took his leave as well, not two feet from the door and he could hear her frustrated tears.

"Why? Why must you take everything that I love away from me? Is this some punishment for being born a savage? Why God?" Aislin sobbed aloud as she crouched down on the stone floor staring up at a blank wall. "Why do you hate me so?" She threw her fists down onto the freezing stone nearly screaming in pain.

"Aislin!" Tristan ran to her side and lifted her from the ground, holding her warmly in his embrace. "Do not fret over this." Her fists began to bleed on his tunic and in his hair as she held him even tighter.

"Don't fret? How am I not supposed to fret?" She sighed, neither of them catching sight of Arthur standing off to the side. "Arthur has all of you charging out into this wretched and bloody battlefield without much thought."

"I do not quarrel with you over this, most of the people he would go to save would not make it to this place. They would never even stand at our gates. But to Arthur, even if he simply saves two from a terrible demise then it was worth it to him. As for the rest of us knights it is simply another battle, another time for us to practice and make mends to our fighting tactics."

"Practice?" She lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes scrutinizing him with every moment they were staring. "How can you gamble your life? How can you let it slip through your fingers and say that it was okay? Battles are horrible things, they are cruel and unrelenting and yet it means nothing to you."

"We knights are blessed in that we do not run from it. We seek it, grasp it by the throat and demand honor in our passing." Tristan released her from the embrace but still held tight to her hands. "We do not fear our death, so please do not burden yourself with their weight, I don't want you to collapse because of me." Tristan released her hands and walked back towards the meeting hall, stopping only for a fraction of a second to gaze at Arthur who seemed taken aback by his knight's knowledge of his presence.

Aislin wiped her eyes to rid them of their childlike tears. She had not known how pathetic here tantrums were until a moment ago. She had always acted on her emotions, always worried about her cousin and the knights, but for once they don't need her worry. In a way Aislin had babied them, felt it was her duty to protect them from death when it was truly their duty to protect her from despair. How selfish could she be, knowing now that this is what they wanted all along: to fight, to bleed, to achieve victory.

Aislin walked somewhat lighter across the floor than before, a weight had been lifted from her heart though not completely gone. As she stepped past the corner she saw Arthur and couldn't help but smile. "The meeting must be over?"

"It is." His response was more mechanical then she would've liked.

"Ah, I'm sorry, for everything that I've put you through. I know now that it is okay, this journey, this battle is part of what you must do as a knight."

"You have nothing for which you need apologize. I have always been more harsh than kind to you."

"How can you say that?" Aislin took a few steps closer to him her eyes struck with hurt. "Arthur you're the reason I'm here today, you and your knights are my saviors and my brothers. You could never do me any injustice." The young woman reached up and kissed him on his cheek just before wondering off down the corridor.


	11. Chapter 11: A Dark Cloud Forms

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness**

**Chapter 11: A Dark Cloud Forms**

That dawn the knights and their commander departed from Hadrian's Wall riding off into the burning sunrise. Aislin sat numbly in her room, as she always did when the knights were sent out on a quest. She could here the horse's hooves shaking the ground hard and heavy, and continued to listen even as the galloping got further and further away from her heart. The young woman hated the feeling of loneliness that would sweep over her when Arthur was sent away. In truth she was surrounded by hundreds of people but it had not mattered, she was not close with one them, save for Vanora and Joules.

Her long blond hair twisted and wended its way around her shoulders so that it came to lie on her bed next to her. She rolled her index finger through a few strands creating a spiral that fell as soon as the finger was dropped. Aislin gazed over her chamber and in not finding anything amusing to stare at she turned over in her bed to sleep. Her cold blue eyes slowly shut as the numbing warmth of exhaustion crept over her tired body.

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"Aislin? Aislin, its Vanora. I have some clean linen for you." Vanora lightly pushed the door watching peacefully as it opened to reveal its sleeping mistress.

Vanora couldn't help but smile comfortably. There was a din rising up from the stairs so the woman closed the door quietly as to not disturb Aislin's slumber. "She needs some warmth in this room, with the snow she'll freeze." Vanora sat down her wicker basket of linens and walked over to the three fire pits in the room and lit each one by one.

"Vanora?" Aislin spoke up half asleep.

"I'm here, child." Vanora had gotten into the habit of calling Aislin child or young one since the time, nearly ten years ago, that she had to watch over her.

"Would you stay here with me?" She asked childishly through the haze of sleep. Aislin saw that Vanora was going to oppose and chimed in once more, "please?"

"Yes, I'll stay." She walked over to the other side of the bed and laid down next to her companion.

"It's just with Arthur and the Knights gone-."

"I know; it's hard on me, too." She sighed deeply, "Now get some rest." The two women fell peacefully asleep warmed by each other's depression.

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"Dusk already, it seems as if we had just left the safety of Hadrian." Lancelot proposed nonchalantly as he rode calmly next to Galahad.

"Yeah I know, no more sweet maidens to curl up next to at night. Now all we have is Bors." The young knight made a disgusted face as Lancelot chuckled. For an added effect Bors turned around on his horse and pursed his lips at them before turning back around after almost ridding off into a tree. "Speaking of women," Galahad grinned cunningly, "why haven't you found a maid to settle down with?"

"Why haven't any of us found a maid to settle down with? We still have another five years of uncertainty, can you honestly promise a woman your life and then die in a battle?" Lancelot voiced as Arthur began to pick up pace pulling the rest of the knights with him through a darkened forest.

"Even if that woman has already been forced to live with uncertainty for other circumstances in her life?"

The older knight forced a questionable gaze onto his comrade. "You do not speak of Vanora, do you?"

"You know well the woman I am referring to." Galahad shifted his gaze and starred up at their commander with a certain pride in his meddling.

The unnerved Lancelot followed the trail of Galahad's gaze; his heart already bound and knowing. His deep amber eyes met with the back of Arthur's head and he couldn't help but to try and swallow the knot in his throat. In the softest of voices he spoke the name of the hidden, "Aislin."

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"Aislin! AISLIN WAKE UP!" Vanora shook the young woman until her eyes rolled open in shock. Aislin's body was sprawled across Vanora's folded knees; her neck was cupped into the crook of her arm. "It's an attack! They haven't breached the walls yet but with Arthur gone who knows what could happen?"

Aislin rolled from the bed and nearly collapsed onto her feet. She stood shakily and walked to her balcony her heart thumping so loud that it might have burst. Though there was no fire she could feel its flames licking her face, though the streets were empty she could hear the women's screams and the men's barbaric cries, and though there were no knights she could feel the protection of their strength surge through her body. "We need more bows and arrows."

"What!" Vanora's voice was shrill as she spoke.

Aislin turned around, her fists clenched at her sides, "We need to find whatever spare bows and arrows we have and round up as many archers as we can gather. The wall must not be breached again." Aislin walked over to her bed and snatched her cloak from the stand. "Find Joules and tell him my orders, spread the news as fast as you can."

"Where will you go?"

"I will be at the wall informing the Captain of the guard." She took in the shaken expression on Vanora's face and welcomed her into an embrace. "Everything is going to be fixed, it will not become another defeat I swear to you." She paused, "It is not how it was ten years ago. We are stronger, our wall is mightier and our people are more courageous. Hadrian will not fall while I live, I swear it to you."

"Please Aislin, do not fall into the black nothingness as you did last time. Do not leave me here alone again." It was almost child-like how she spoke, but there was an emotion burning deep within the pit of her eyes that made Aislin's stomach crawl. She could feel the despair vibrating from her expression and felt almost entrapped within its grasp. This woman, her friend felt helplessly left out and alone. _How could this have happened?_

"You are not alone, Vanora, you never were. But if you do not find Joules now we may run out of time. Please, hurry."

"Yes, my lady." The older woman rushed from the room and scampered off down the corridor.

Aislin forced one last glance towards her balcony; she could hear the shouts of the Romans barking out orders and the hiss of the arrows raining down upon the opposing Woads. "I cannot lose this garrison to them, Arthur would never forgive me." With that determination forced into her thoughts she raced from the room, her skirts billowing around her legs as she ran, nearly trampling the passer by.

"Excuse me, please I must get to the wall. Please move!" She jumped up and down on her feet to get her sense of direction back. By this time the streets were filled to the brim with the town's people and Aislin could scarcely see through the thick fog of inhabitants. "Please, move. It is urgent! Sir I beg you move!" She was standing in front of a rather large balding man who would not budge from his spot in the path.

"You're place isn't at the wall, it's in my bed." As he spoke his mouth drained with thick red wine, his drunkenness grinning at the young woman through butchered teeth. Perhaps he drank for pleasure, perhaps he drank of habit, or perhaps he drank to ease the pain of the attack. Which, in effect, had worsened the situation for Aislin. He reached out his thick hairy arm to snatch her, spitting horridly as he howled with laughter.

Aislin pushed away his arm, tripping backwards as she became unbalanced. Upon hitting the hard ground she forced her eyes shut and inhaled sharply, with no weapon she could not ward him off so she had no chance at defeating him. But the man's arms never forced her into his embrace; she never felt the degradation of his filthy touch.

"Aislin, it is over. Come we must get to the wall before it is too late." Her fearful eyes slowly opened and brightened at the sight of Joules. The young woman smiled before she could stop herself, but Joules hadn't seemed to mind the inopportune smile and simply extended his arm for her to grasp.

"Vanora, she was able to find you?" Aislin shouted over the din of the crowd as they dashed along the side streets towards the gate.

"Yes, I already have a small group of men who are able. At the moment they're going from home to home rallying more aid. In no time we should have a couple dozen makeshift troops all ready and willing to fight."

"Thank you Joules, this wouldn't have been possible without you."

"Don't thank me now, we haven't won yet." He teased as they came up on the wall. "There, that is Captain Faurcus. He's the one you want to inform." Joules watched curiously as Aislin for the first time hesitated. "Go on, there is nothing to be afraid of. Besides you have no time to feel fear or even acknowledge its presence."

The young woman nodded in agreement, "thank you." She bounded off up the stone stairs, raising her skirts high enough so that she would not trip. At the top she nearly ran into a soldier. "I need to speak with Captain Faurcus, it is urgent information."

"The only urgent information a woman could carry is the birth of a child." The Roman soldier spat back.

"And perhaps that is what my news is, nevertheless it is none of your business, it is the Captain's." Aislin's tone was bitter and every muscle in her face contorted to show her disgust with this man and his closed mind. "Let me pass, or you will hear it from my cousin upon his return."

"Your cousin, and what might he do to me, I am a soldier in the Roman Army what is your simpleton cousin going to do to me?" His toothy grin made Aislin shutter, he obviously did not know to whom she was referring.

"He might throw you in the brig or perhaps order lashings, or maybe even discharge you from the army all together. That would be the worst for you wouldn't it, to give up that entire male bonding thing you Roman's are so fascinated with. I bet you enjoy it when in the heat of battle the other man brushes so coarsely against your flesh placing himself right on you, close enough to touch."

"You should know your place, woman!" The anger rose into his throat reverberating through his mouth, causing his teeth to grind together.

"I bet by that time you want him so much that you can feel it quack between your legs, calling you to him. I bet you would like nothing more then to pull his lips onto yours!"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" At that point Aislin had gone too far, pushed too hard with the soldier. She hadn't even seen it coming; his hand had grazed her flesh leaving her cheek numb and her neck aching from the speed of the hit. She stood silent, her hand to her face and her eyes watering emotionlessly. _I shouldn't have said those things. What came over me?_

"You dare strike Artorius Castus?" Aislin could hear Joules defending her but did not dare look at him, for fear he would see how wretched she truly was. To have said such things made her just as low as that Soldier; she enticed him to strike, she had caused it.

"She is not the Commander of this garrison; she is a weak, dishonorable whore!"

"She is Artorius' flesh and blood, and I will be sure to inform him upon his return just how his cousin was treated when she attempted to administer helpful information to Captain Faurcus to aid in the struggle against the Woads." Aislin couldn't have been prouder of Joules if he had pushed back the Woads all on his own.

The soldier had become speechless; he stood there numb and dumb as a door, simply gawking at the young woman now bruised by his hand. "Is this true?" Captain Faurcus questioned as he walked towards them. "You have information that could help us?"

Aislin stumbled over her thoughts at first but managed to make them clear in her mind. "Yes sir, I have had Joules here rally together a group of men who are ready and able with a bow. We have also gathered all spare bows and arrows that we could find. The group should be arriving shortly." Aislin paused, "I believe that if we can hold the Woads at bay while they're still at the gate there will be no need for hand to hand combat. That is why I sent for extra archers so that we may beat them here where they are most vulnerable."

"Those are my thoughts exactly. I appreciate your help and am indebted to Arthur for schooling his cousin well in the arts of war and common sense." He smiled pleasantly, "not many women have such a trait, consider yourself lucky to be at such a great advantage."

"Captain, the men have arrived." Joules spoke up as he directed the Captain's attention to the couple dozen archers below.

"Very well, have them come up and take their places." He turned backed to Aislin, his hand on her shoulder. "Thanks to you we will be able to claim victory today, your cousin will be proud."

In a matter of minutes arrows began another storm on the opposition, many men fell victim to their tiny metal points. The young woman stood to the side in a state of confusion. She was not horrified as she had been ten years prior, but at the same time she could not stand it. As she watched the arrows fall towards the challenging Woads she felt the arrows impact as if she had been standing among them. Aislin found herself holding her stomach and nearly doubling over in pain.

"Aislin, Aislin are you all right?" Joules walked up behind her and pulled her from the kneeling position she had fallen into. "Come Aislin, this is no place for a woman." She had nearly flopped back into his arms and fumbled her way down the stairs as he led her to a horse.

"I feel so tired," she groaned out, her arm still clenched tightly around her stomach.

"Well it's no wonder with running around and putting together a makeshift band of archers." Joules smiled warmly up at her as he helped her mount the horse. "You're a strong woman, and a witty one at that; never forget who you are."

"I won't," she yawned. As she sat on the horse's back she gave one final glance towards the wall. She watched as the smoke rose from the torches singeing the sky with their still burning embers. Aislin couldn't help but feel pity for those men and women outside of the gate whose lives were being torn to shreds by her sensible gesture.

"Now go on back to the villa, there is nothing left here for you to do." Joules had shook her from her dreamy state of mind and brought her back to her exhaustion. With one clean smack the horse was on his way, carrying the burden of Aislin's depression as well as her pride, their weight unbalanced and uneven upon his back.

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"Sir, it is over. Every last Woad has fallen or been wounded to the point of inevitable death." The adolescent soldier remarked stiffly from behind his decorative helmet. "What are your orders, Captain Faurcus?"

"Find any survivors that are able to speak and bring them to the brig for interrogation. We must find out answers to why they chose to attack us, what their motives were." The Captain spoke coldly his hands braced against the stone of the wall.

"Yes sir, I will begin the search immediately."

"Very well," Faurcus listened somewhat distantly as the young Roman left his presence to do his bidding. The middle aged Captain was torn, he did his duty to his people, his fort but was it right? Now as he gazed down upon the several dozen people he had slaughtered with arrows he wondered what the point of it all was. These were young ambitious adolescents with a few elderly leaders, nothing more. There was no way they could have achieved victory, so why attack?

"What was their motive?" His mind pondered the situation trying to come up with a reasonable solution when he caught a glimpse of something. "Nephris? Is that-."

As Faurcus turned around he came face to face with a charging Woad, her eyes alive and vehement. Her voice rained down on him as she thrust her spear towards his heart, missing when he ducked to the side. She tried to pry the weapon from the rock but was unable to before the Captain had took a hold of her. The woman had screamed and wretched in his arms creating an unavoidable scene.

The Woad bit into Faurcus' arm in an attempt to free herself, but was surprised to find her captor's firm hold of her matted locks. "Now I will release you if you swear to behave as a civilized person and accept your imprisonment."

The woman hesitated in her response before reluctantly nodding her agreement. Once released from Faurcus grip the woman pulled away, examining her hair and rubbing her scalp. The captain took a step closer to her and extended his hand, "you must come this way, with me."

The Woad's eyes scanned the area, trying to remember every bit of it. Her dull chocolate eyes glared back at Faurcus as she muttered something in her tongue. Spit flew from her mouth and landed on Faurcus' feet just before she leapt from the wall into the wagon below. The remains of her deceased people cushioned her fall, and as her face turned up towards the sky and fell upon Faurcus she smiled at his rage.

"CATCH THAT WOMAN! CATCH HER!" The enraged officer shouted out almost in the form of a shriek. He watched almost helplessly as the woman took down two soldiers with their own swords and fled towards the woods. "CATCH HER!"

At that moment the adolescent soldier from before charged out onto the field riding a horse. With every gallop he came closer to the fleeting Woad, he felt the rush of the moment his adrenaline taking full control of his body as he leapt from the horse at her. His body tackled her to the ground, his helmet coming off from the impact.

"Saelyn!" A man shouted from the gate of Hadrian's Wall, he stood tall even as he limped against the stone of the wall. "SAELYN!" He watched breathlessly as the young woman rolled around in the grass fighting for her life against the weight of the man pinning her. He could not stand to watch any longer, he limped his way towards a bow that one of his people had left after their death.

He knew there was not much time, heavy footfalls echoed in and out of his mind warning him that the Romans were only feet away. The man knelt on his knees pulling the bowstring back and aiming his arrow. They were close now, but all he would need is one shot, one arrow and his sister would be free. His target kept moving making it difficult for him to aim correctly. The Woad finally gained a target and just as he was about to release the arrow a noose was hooked around his throat and he was jolted backwards onto the ground and pinned by two other Romans.

Saelyn continued to kick and scream digging her nails into her captor's throat, his blood running over her fingers. He groaned out his pain and forced her arms to the ground above her head. "Please, I beg you don't put up any more of a struggle." He paused taking in air, "I don't want to have to hurt you. Please, don't struggle."

But Saelyn refused and kept on pushing, shoving him from her. The Roman released one of his hands and she flew up just as he reached for a sizable rock. She wasn't expecting it, didn't even see it coming as she crawled from his grasp but it happened all the same. With one painful hit to the head she was knocked to the ground unconscious. The young Roman took a moment to breathe and watch the trees sway, dropping piles of snow to the already packed ground. He scooped the woman up in his arms surprised at how light she truly was. He starred at her sleeping state, watching her peaceful slumber created a calming sensation to swarm over his nerves.

"Bring her here!" Shouted the Captain from the gate, standing just beside the pinned brother.

The soldier glanced down at the woman one last time, "I'm sorry, I know now I should've let you go instead of keeping you here to watch the horrors of torture. He is your brother isn't he? I'm so sorry. Please, find it in your heart to forgive me." He pulled his cape from his back and wrapped it around her frigid body before making his way through the snow to his commanding officer.


	12. Chapter 12: A Brush With fate

**An Optimist's Dream in a Time of Darkness:**

**Chapter 12: A Brush With Fate**

A thundering scream pierced its way through the corridors of the Roman Villa arousing everyone within earshot. Aislin, who had been peacefully placed into a thick sleep fueled by exhaustion, now sprung from her warm covers in shock. The woman rubbed her eyes fiercely to try and rid them of their grogginess. Another shriek, somewhat quieter than the last, had spiraled up the stairs and under the oak door to Aislin's room. "What in the name of God?" She spoke breathlessly, still stunned from the thought of such outbursts.

The young woman dressed in her robes hurriedly, not minding how distraught she truly appeared, and stormed out into the hallway toward the stairs. Along her way through the corridors she saw much of the servants frightened and unnerved faces all looking to her with slight interest as she scaled the villa in search of the source of all of their awakenings. The screaming had ceased, it seemed to have simply disappeared into nothingness, and there were no clues to be found.

Aislin had slowed her search and inevitably put it to an end as she stepped out in to the cool moonlight of the winter season. Its large spherical shape of glowing light loomed over her head, nearly scrutinizing her with its holiness. She didn't want to give up the search, but it had become nearly impossible to find the particular woman who had been screaming, much less why she was screaming. It could have been a great many reasons. Aislin slid down the length of a decorative stone pillar, her bottom gently resting in the dirt and gravel of the path just outside the villa.

From behind she heard a faint almost hushed sobbing. At first it was rather distant, almost not real, but as she moved back into the enclosure of the villa its vocalization grew. She could hear the distinct depressed sobs, the frustrated sniffles. Aislin had come up on it and she could hear the cries perfectly, so she continued to walk quickly, though as she did everything became quieter, she had lost it. Her feet padded across the cold stone floor as she traipsed back to where she had heard the sobs and found no door, no passageway, nothing but a rug.

The curious woman bent low and lifted the rug from its place finding a wooden door. She pressed her ear against the door, listening to the sounds that were emitted from this secret place. There was a muffled scream and a terrible howl of pain. Aislin jumped backwards, covering her mouth to hold in her own voice of shock. She slowly crept back over to the handle of the door and gripped it tightly. With one forceful pull she had lifted the weighty trap door halfway and let it fall backwards the other half. She had not cared that she had caused a loud noise to reverberate within the cramped chamber; she wanted to be heard.

Her feet lightly descended into the hidden chamber, her robes washing over the gravel floor as she waltzed in. She took in the sight of the beaten woman bound and gagged in a stall, her forehead cut and blood running down the side of her face and into her light red matted locks of hair. Aislin's jaw dropped in horror; she quickly covered her mouth with a shaking hand and out of instinct began to back up until she was up against a wall. Tears of pity and remorse ran their course down her cheeks; she could taste their disgusting sorrow as they rolled aimlessly over her lips. The woman's eyes pleaded with Aislin and she couldn't help but watch her in shame.

"Lady Aislin, how wonderful it is that you chose to stop in to experience how effectively our interrogation is going." She understood his words but could not grasp the concept of brute force. Her terrified face found its way to the Captain of the Guards.

It took her a minute to grasp her anger, to find it buried within herself. "Interrogation?" She bit her lip and stepped cogently forward. "INTERROGATION! You bastard! This isn't an interrogation! This is brutal punishment! You can't do this to people!"

"It is our duty to Rome, to God, my fair Lady." He whispered arrogantly.

With one fierce movement Aislin's hand had flown across the Captain's face, leaving a burning red mark in its wake. "It is no one's duty but God's to punish those whom are deemed sinners! You have not the right nor the authority to do such things, and to do so is to mock God himself!"

The two Romans that were behind Faurcus came to life at Aislin's vicious act and were in stance to attack but the Captain hailed them away. "You speak poetically about God and his reign, of his control. But tell me, does your dear cousin follow God's reign when he is out on the battlefield defending Rome from the Woads. Or do you, for that matter?"

Aislin's face seemed to have glazed over in thought, "defending Rome… against the Woads?" A look of complete understanding swept over her entire being at that moment, and she knew what she must do. "Captain Faurcus, you will remove your men along with yourself from this room immediately. Is that understood?"

"You have no authority here," he stooped closer to her and spoke in a hushed tone, "in hell."

"Perhaps not, but you are still under the authority of my Cousin, Artorius Castus, the Commanding Officer of this Garrison. So if you wish to stay Captain of the Guard much longer I suggest you leave." The man bowed his head slightly, "and know, Captain, that each of you shall be punished accordingly… by God."

The older man stepped behind her, revealing his work as a torturer. A young man whose arms were strung up by ropes that had cut into his flesh dangled before her, his eyes open but unblinking. His blood had long stained the ground even before she had entered the doomed chamber. "Know, Lady," he brushed his hand over her shoulder, "how human's deal their punishment. It is far worse than God."

She closed her eyes and dropped to the floor, half listening to their heavy feet airily walking away, and half listening to her own cries of redemption. Aislin stood suddenly, tears blurring her vision, and ran to the deceased young man. She searched the ground for a dagger, a sword, anything sharp. The upset young woman found a tip of a spear and hacked away at the rope, catching the burden of the man's weight as he fell onto her. She rolled him onto the ground and examined his wounds; two sharp stabs to the sides and his throat sliced clean across.

Her tears dropped onto his body cleansing his wounds with the light of her sorrow. She had never wanted this, never knew that this would be born of her plan to save the garrison. She took all the blame onto herself, doing her best to turn it into something useful.

Above her sobs she could hear one other, the bound woman. Aislin rose to her feet emotionlessly. The tattered ends of her robes dragged across the broken rock, her feet dirtied and scratched, and still she walked on toward the young woman whose death she had managed to prevent. Their eyes gazed into one another's, each hollow and cold with despair. "I am sorry… sorry." The last few tears left within Aislin's soul glided angelically down her red cheek.

She bent down, taking the spearhead and sawing at the rope that bound the miserable woman to the frozen wall. The woman quickly jumped from the ground, nearly falling over in a panic, and meandered her way over to the fallen young man. She began spouting out prayers in the native language that had long been dead to Aislin's ears. The now Roman woman watched in curiosity as her native ally prayed for forgiveness and guidance.

"He was your brother?" Aislin spoke up, finally.

The woman simply starred back at her with those dead eyes. After a moment or two she nodded and turned her face back to the young man, her fingers running through his long hair.

"I'm sorry, if I had known that this is what would've happened… I wouldn't have-."

"Thank you," the woman was now standing, her face swollen from tears of pain. "Thank you for trying." In a matter of moments her tears overflowed from her eyes, nearly drowning her soul with the sorrowful liquid. Slowly she knelt down on the cool earth, her head bent in a humble way.

The young Roman crawled over to her sister of distress. "Please, do not cry. I… I need your help." The Woad's face lifted, still reflecting that of an upset child. "I…you loved your brother very much, so much that you would do anything for him, even if that meant forfeiting something you believe in. Perhaps, taking part in a battle that otherwise would prevent nothing? A battle that wasn't really a battle at all, only a death bed." she made a quick glance to the corpse lying not three feet from them. "That is how I love my cousin. Arthur is a good man, and I know he is your enemy, but so am I… it does not change anything, we are still humans and even humans can admit defeat, surrender and ask for aid. Please help me. I can't lose him."

The Woad woman outstretched her arms and embraced Aislin warmly, her tears heating the Roman's skin. "I will make sure that you are free once you have helped me find him. No Roman will bring harm to you, I swear it."

"I trust you, because already our souls were planned to help each other, my sister of the forest." Her red hair cascaded over Aislin's shoulder, mixing and blending with the long locks of blonde that draped down Aislin's back.

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"Joules, psst Joules! Wake up you big oaf!" Aislin hollered quietly at a door; her apparel now changed to a long powder-blue gown with a rope belt and black cape with a billowing hood. Saelyn stood just beside her, wrapped in a deep green cape fringed in fox fur. "Joules come on, open up!"

The door parted roughly nearly knocking Aislin into the room. "What do you want Aislin, it's not even dawn."

"Exactly." She whispered shakily as she constantly checked the corridors for any spying eyes.

"What do you need?" He sighed halfheartedly as he slumped against the door-frame.

"I need atleast a dozen reliable men who are good on horseback, enough horses to hold us all, and sturdy weapons."

"Aislin, what are you talking about? I thought this was just going to be the usual. A midnight ride on Ladiah and nothing more. What are you going on about, why do you need weapons and horses?"

"Look, Joules tell all who you must but try not to create a panic." She paused, watching as her statements intrigued Joules. "The Woad's are planning an ambush on the Knights once they reach the ship wreck, the Roman's who were aboard the wrecked vessel are most likely dead. It is only a matter of time before the Knights are, too. This is why Merlin put forth the useless battle this evening. It was a distraction."

He gazed at the young woman for a moment, her eyes swollen with fear. "You're serious?"

"Would I be here, dressed and ready, if I wasn't?"

"Well even so, how do you know that your hunch is correct?"

"Because, I have her." Aislin stepped to the side revealing Saelyn to Joules, who stood their baffled.

"You have a Woad as your guide? How do you know she won't just lead you in circles or something." He pondered aloud as he pulled his weight back on both feet.

"I trust her, and she trusts me. We have an understanding, her and I; one that you need not concern yourself with. Just believe me when I say that she will lead us to Arthur and the Knights." She stepped back up to her good friend, "please Joules. Please help me?"

"Right, give me a moment to change and I'll ready a few riders." He turned to shut the door, then faced Aislin once more, "you know, you're almost as persuasive as Lancelot." Aislin pulled the door closed roughly in his face.

"Lancelot?" Saelyn questioned, "who is this Lancelot, and why should the mentioning of his name anger you so?"

"He is no man of consequence, no man of importance… to me, atleast." Aislin held her chin up high and walked back out into the moonlight, allowing it to drench her with its cleansing rays.

"Oh," the Woad woman smiled and slowly followed.

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Arthur rode at the lead of his gallant knights. His white horse pranced across the ground angelically as it strode through the humid mist of the forest. Though Arthur at that moment was neither angelic nor demonic; simply put, he was human: regretting what he hadn't done, and praying for what he had done. He loved his life, loved his dream more than anyone he knew could comprehend, but to what end would he go to make it possible?

The commander knew that with success there is always sacrifice, so what in his life would he be willing to extend to heaven? Would he give his knights to their cause? No. He promised them freedom. Would he give Aislin to her Roman fate? No. He has loved her too greatly. Would he cast his people into the fire to aid in his dream? No. He has sworn to protect them from that fire. So what would he give? Himself.

"Do you think God ponders that hard over the lives he has taken?" That voice, that sarcastically sweet tone that floats through your mind and ignites a burning to either love or hate it with a blazing passion. Arthur heard this voice and couldn't help but to be in love with it, in the only way that a man is ever permitted to love another man: as a brother. His smile was as warm and charismatic as the day he first met the knights.

"Perhaps he does," Arthur conceded nonchalantly.

"Then it is a complete waste," Lancelot blundered out. "For why should two men be forced to think of the same thing when one could rightly be worrying about where his horse was trailing off to?"

Arthur quickly snapped the reigns taunt, halting the horse in place before he traveled off of the path and into an oak. The young commander brushed his fingers lightly over the horse's neck in a soothing way, almost as if stroking the tension from his flesh. "Lancelot?"

The older knight glanced up at his friend as they rode on side-by-side. "Yes?"

"If I were to ever fall…" Lancelot began to roll his eyes and complain at his companion's useless words. "No, hear me out. Please." When Lancelot had finally given up arguing over the pointlessness of this discussion, Arthur continued. "If I were to ever fall, or become ill to the point of death… I know Tristan would take care of her, but if you could just watch Aislin. Just watch over her, and nothing more. Would you do that for me?"

The impervious Knight thought over Arthur's words, he thought of everything that has happened since he arrived at Hadrian's Wall, and most of all he thought of Aislin. He questioned himself over and over trying to reject the proposition with everything he could. But in the end he couldn't. "Yes, if you ask it of me, then yes I will see it through."

He hadn't even heard Arthur's whispered gratitude or even the thumping of the stead's hooves as Arthur aligned himself back in the lead. Lancelot was too far gone in his thoughts to truly notice anything around him. This girl, no, woman that he had just sworn to watch over, to protect, in so many ways has been his rival for Arthur's affections. One was a brother the other a cousin, both competing for one man's love and acceptance, could there truly be a union between the two? He thought about Galahad's words; could they truly be two halves of the same whole? But his real question was: could he ever love her… or does he already?

----------

Aislin cautiously mounted Ladiah, doing her best not to create so much of a racket. Saelyn mounted her horse rather gracefully and with swiftness Aislin had never seen before. "We have much to learn from each other, I think." Stated the Woad curiously.

Aislin nodded and smiled, "I believe we do. Come, Joules should have the riders ready by now." They rode quietly out of the stables and waited for Joules just outside, hidden in the shadows.

There were two quick whistles and out of the shroud of darkness appeared their anticipated arrival. Joules rode up to them in full armor brandishing a bow and a quiver of arrows, which he handed over to Aislin. "What, no sword?" She questioned jokingly.

"I doubt your cousin would want you any closer to the battle than that." Joules enlightened the young woman.

"The guards at the gate?" She threw in as she finished plaiting her hair in one long braid.

"They are taken care of, you need not worry about them." He granted reassuringly. "Are you ready?"

Aislin faced the woman beside her, " you remember quite well where the ambush is to be?"

"Yes, I will make no mistakes, I swear it to you."

The young Roman woman nodded, "Then yes, we are ready."

"Good, the other riders are already assembled and are waiting just outside the gate." Joules explained. The three conspirators rode off into the night shrouded by its cape of stars and never relenting hopes.

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"Why does Arthur have us travel at such a slow pace when we could have helped those people and been back to Hadrian by now?" Pondered an aggravated Galahad as he leaned towards Bors for an answer.

"Arthur would rather us travel slowly through Woad territory and watch our backs, than race us off into their trap. It is the difference between a title of nobility and being noble. Arthur is a born leader and as such I trust him. Where he goes I go." Bors readjusted himself on his horse and gazed out at Arthur. "Tristan's returned, hopefully he's brought us good news."

Tristan's stead galloped hard and fast, kicking up dirt as it approached the halted knights. Once stopped Tristan was out of breath. "Woads, they attacked the ship. There was no one left."

"And the supplies?" Questioned Arthur with a firm tone.

"Taken," Tristan swallowed hard, "Arthur we have to leave now. I can't be sure how many, but there are a number of Woads trailing us. Several followed me. Their in the hills." The rushed knight gazed up from the valley and into the towering hills that loomed on either side of them.

"Knights!" Shouted Arthur as he withdrew his sword from its sheath. "We have fought together for ten years now and no battle will ever come close to the defeat we must strive for today! We are brave warriors crossing the threshold of life and waiting our turn to die, let that fateful turn not be today! The battle welcomes us knights, let us take it!" The band of knights roared with fiery breath that billowed smoke into the heated dawn. If God was watching he knew which men were destined for victory.

As if a moth to the flame, the Woads made themselves known through the dense forest of dead trees and snow covered ground. There was an entire army of rebels gathered there on that southward hill. An army that would have no doubt crushed the brave Sarmatian Knights if they had been without aid. But there was aid.

The Woads charged the valley on spotted horses and bare legs alone. Their barbaric nature taking root within their own humanity and becoming a part of them as killing has always been a part of man. The knights readied themselves in the shape of a pointed arrow each brandishing a weapon and a shield. Arthur stood at the point, his legs staggered to allow for a lunge of force. Sweat beads rolled down from his forehead onto his temples and across his cheeks. He prayed allowed.

"Holy father I beg of thee, protect my knights from uncertainty…" The beating of the horses' hooves echoed in his mind, as did the terrible war cries of their masters. "If they should fall to these barbarian's hands take them under your polished wing and extend them into heaven's light…" The enemy was not far off now, their horrid faces displaying that of a wild beast unleashed from hell. "As for Aislin, watch over her. Guide her with your heart, lead her with your knowledge, and allow her the gift of nobility to protect our people. I ask all of this knowing that I will not live to see it done. In your name I pray…" Two hundred paces away and their thundering stomps beat like drums in a tribal dance. "Amen."

Whizzing through the air, an arrow descends upon the Woads, plummeting itself into the thick neck of a spotted stallion. Arthur's head turned with haste following the path in which the arrow had departed on, and what he found stunned him. "Aislin."

There, on the northward hill, atop her sturdy mare sat Aislin, her bow readied with another arrow. "You missed." Reprimanded a rider not two steps behind her.

"No, I hit my mark." They watched as the horse fumbled and collapsed head first into the frozen snow, snapping its neck and taking its rider down with it. The horseman just beside the fallen horse was clipped as the horse collapsed and it too stumbled falling into peril. "Ready!" Shouted Aislin to the men lined up on their horses, bows drawn. "Set your mark!" She glanced over the men before setting her own mark. "Release!" A dozen arrows spiraled down onto the Woads, knocking a chunk of the front line to the ground, and clearing a slight path in front of the Knights.

Joules snapped his reigns, "We ride, Aislin stay up here and watch our backs."

The young woman nodded obediently; she had never known the thirst of killing, never felt it swim through her blood stream as it had while she watched that Woad fall to her arrow. Something in her was stirred to life, some part of her she had kept shut off for reasons she could not explain. Perhaps it was instinct, a killer, a lover, or simplistically enough passion for life. It was the will to survive.

It seemed as though she had been locked in a haze of thoughts for hours, her mind not noticing much. Saelyn's horse stepped up next to her, the frozen snow crunching beneath it's hooves. "You may leave now, if you wish. You are no longer a Roman captive, return to your people."

"Will you be safe up here?" The second woman questioned with unease.

"The battle is down there, I should be safe where I am." Aislin replied respectfully, smiling warmly at her companion. But there was some other sadness that had crept across Saelyn's face, a sort of depression. "What is it?"

"When I was captured… there was a young man. He is the one who caught me. He had spoken to me in a calm voice and was always kind to me. I don't even know his name, and yet he is right there. He is a very talented swordsman for a young man." She leaned towards the edge, her voice somewhat dream like. "There he is, do you see him?"

"Yes, I do." Aislin grinned girlishly and turned back around to finish her conversation with Saelyn, but she was already ascending further up the hill on her horse. "Farewell," she whispered to herself.

Aislin watched the battle with crazed emotions. She was there in the thick of it, she could feel the rush of power, the surge of death licking at your toes, and one by one her arrows rained down upon her enemies, taking their lives with their pointed edges. When she came up on her last arrow, she decided to move in closer for a better view.

Aislin pulled her hood up over her head as she led Ladiah down through the labyrinth of dead trees and fallen bushes. As she came up on her ideal spot she climbed down from the mare's back and cautiously crept through the snow. Part of her face was concealed behind the thick of a tree, though she could see the whole battle unfolding before her. She raised her bow, readied her aim, and watched as the arrow soared through the air wending its way into the chest of the Woad who would have taken Arthur's head.

"AISLIN!" The word flew from Gawain's mouth as he ran toward her, but he was more than twenty paces away and not nearly fast enough on his legs to make it to her in time.

Aislin flew around, starring a brute of man in the face just before he swung his ax. She fell to the ground out of breath and in shock as the ax caught itself in the rough bark of the tree. Aislin scrambled to her feet and mounted Ladiah as fast as she could. The horse bounded out of the forest, snapping twigs as it landed on the battleground. She rode through the cluster of dueling warriors, her hood down and her fallen hair whipping in her face.

The valley, like the hills, was scattered with bare trees, bushes, and natural obstacles. Aislin had decided to seek refuge in the denser part of the valley in hopes of losing the Woad rider behind her. Her face was flushed and her breathing staggered, the harsh winter wind impaled her face with every gallop of the horse, and still she rode on to survive. There were several bunches of immense sticker bushes just beyond the little dip in the land, and Aislin would be stuck.

Though, instead of slowing down, Aislin had increased Ladiah's pace and in one clean movement had forced her to jump over the deadly plants. As they landed they skidded across the snow due to a small layer of ice that had formed. The horse and panicked woman were now facing the bushes, Aislin's eyes were wide and she was nearly falling off the horse while she observed breathlessly as Lancelot fought brutally with a Woad. The Woad had been knocked to his knees after his one leg was lost to the heavy weight of Lancelot's descending sword. He now crawled for his own sword, which had apparently been flung, when the noble Knight thrust his blackened blade into the man's spine severing it in half.

Aislin's breath caught in her throat as she covered her mouth in horror, and for the briefest of moments they caught each other's eye. Her eyes had been so hollow, so dead, while his were very much alive and fiery. The moment of complete amazement ended suddenly as the Woad on horse back leapt over the sticker bushes and into their territory. While still in the air, Lancelot made his move by taking both of his blades and slicing into the horse's back legs. The Woad and his horse crashed into the ice-laden ground.

"RIDE! AISLIN GET OUT OF HERE!" His voice screamed in her head, and so she turned the horse and rode off into the darkness of the dead forest. Lancelot watched as she became further and further away, praying she would not come back.

Aislin rode hard on energy that she did not know she possessed. The ground shook underneath Ladiah's feet, and just when she thought she was a safe distance away from the battleground she found that the battle had followed her. Two Woad riders had been tracking her through the woods since she left Lancelot. She did not know how long she could keep running, how long before her will would end and she would waste away into the nothingness that is death.

Her horse's breathing became staggered as well as her own, she could feel exhaustion creeping up on her, and perhaps she would not withstand this battle. Perhaps death would take her as his bride tonight. Up ahead a wide stream crossed over her path, a stream that she would have no choice but to cross. And so she made the effort and slowed down to cross. As she came to the center of the stream she had realized that both Woads were no longer behind her, one had crossed the stream on bare feet while the other brought his horse up beside hers.

At that moment she knew her life was no longer her own, they held it in their hands, and when the second Woad leapt at her from a tree she knew that she would have to fight to regain her life. They both plummeted into the icy water of the deep stream. At their impact the thin layer of ice that had covered the running stream shattered causing pain for both people. She thrashed about, her head still under the water as the Woad tried his best to drown her.

Aislin let one of her hands leave her neck, as she felt around the streambed for any weapon possible. Once she had latched onto a rock of size she allowed her body to fall faint and act as if she had died. The Woad, believing that she had indeed died, released her, and turned back around to remount his stallion. In one swift action Aislin had rose from the stream, water cascading down her frigid body as she beat the weighty rock against her enemy's head. She beat him until blood ran the stream red and she could no longer feel the pain in her hand.

The drown woman reached down into the water and pulled the Woad's dagger from its place on his calve. Aislin could hear the other Woad coming back at her, stalking her as one would stalk a deer. She climbed out of the stream and waited, her body shaking from the cold. It seemed almost all at once that things had fallen into place, he was charging her, her back to him as she waited. He came closer and just when he was about to swing his sword and take her head clear off her shoulders, she fell on her knees and thrust her body around in a twist. It took the Woad a minute to register what had happened, and then he collapsed. As Aislin had turned she forced the dagger into his side twice, sinking the entire blade within his body each time.

She stood, straddled over the man watching him die, and in an attempt to give him some relief she drove the dagger one last time, into his throat. His crimson blood drained out, staining the snow with its red curse. Aislin removed her drenched cape and meandered over to their horses, she removed the woven fabric that had lain across their bare backs and used them as makeshift blankets to keep her warm. She then remounted Ladiah and headed her off in the direction of the battle.

The young half-breed had not known where her power to kill came from, before that day she hadn't even known it had existed. Aislin had merely acted on what she thought she needed to do to survive. People say that you never know what true potential your life has until that life is threatened and you are forced to fight for it, perhaps they are right. Though, it truly didn't matter now that she had killed, because the stain from that kill would never leave her soul, and the thirst for death would hunt her until the end of her days.

---------

The battle had run its course with casualties on both sides, and still the knights stood victorious in the name of God, Rome, and above all else, freedom. They had fought a gruesome and terrible skirmish, a battle that left them weak and bloodied. By nightfall the snow became the hill's open wound, marked with warrior's blood.

The clan of knights, and what was left of their reinforcements, continued their course through the valley to the wrecked ship where they would make camp. Once the camp would be set up and guarded, Arthur planned to go in search of his missing cousin, Aislin. He had not seen her for hours and insisted that she be found for fear of her death or capture. The young commander forced himself not to think of the possible outcomes, he tried to picture her as she had been the other day when they argued about the crops, when she would not relent. "She is a fighter," he reassured himself as they came upon the beached vessel.

Butchered bodies lay torn open in everyplace imaginable. Supplies were thrown about the ground, littering the earth with remnants of the Romans' needs. The ship itself looked as if it had waged its own battle with the heathen Woads. The Knights and Roman men spent the better part of two hours burring the dead, measuring what was left of supplies, and making a camp for the night.

Once everything had been completed, Arthur stood at the far end of the camp, starring out into the vastness of the decaying woods. "She's out there, you know." He reminded Lancelot as he stepped up beside him.

"I know. I've readied your horse, Tristan and Galahad are to accompany you in the search." Lancelot spoke hesitantly as he gazed down upon the snow, finding more interest in it than the painful topic they were surely going to discuss.

"No, not Galahad. I want you out there looking for her. Galahad is a great knight, and can ride better than even I, but he is neither a scout nor a tracker." He looked his comrade in the eyes, "I can't lose her Lancelot. She keeps me together, believe it or not. Just having to look after her, or protect, or talk to her gives me reason to live… if I lost that how could I command a garrison? How could I be fit to be any sort of a leader?"

It took a minute for the knight to give an answer, he was confused as well, and as of late could not make sense of his own feelings, but he knew he would not leave Arthur alone. "I will ready my horse and inform Galahad." He paused, and then grinned halfheartedly as he looked up at Arthur, "we will find her."

The whole of the winter moon floated above the knights' heads shinning its bright rays upon them and guiding them along their paths. It was an especially chilly night with dark clouds looming overhead in the sky, sometimes shadowing the moon in an eerie way. The knights eventually broke apart, each going their separate ways in an attempt to find her faster, one north, one south, and one in the valley. A soft wind rustled through the area whistling in the hollowed trees and cracking branches together in an exotic drum roll.

Aislin was slumped over on her horse, wondering aimlessly through the thick debris of nature in the valley. Her mind tipped back and forth in between consciousness and unconsciousness, her body nearly lifeless and frozen through to the bone. She felt the breeze stir through her tangled locks of matted hair and briefly glanced up, her eyes swollen and slightly iced over. She could see something moving towards her, it was tall and rather fast on its legs. The frigid woman tried to speak but her voice had tensed up.

"Aislin! AISLIN!" The horse's hooves echoed off of the hills as they smacked into the compact snow. She could hear the man's breathing and vaguely feel his arms wrap around her stomach to pull her over to his horse.

She starred up at him, her mind half asleep with the cold. His outline in the dark was familiar; she recognized the shady locks, the height, and build. "Arthur?" She choked out gradually. "Arthur," the young woman cupped her hand around his cheek and knew by the coarse hairs of his thin beard that she had made a mistake. "Lancelot?" Her eyes flickered slightly as her voice faded into hollowness.

"Aislin, no, stay awake." He called to her while shaking her to her senses. "You cannot fall asleep. Look at me." The knight shook her once more, her eyes now focusing. "Look at me," he said calmly, his face inches from hers.

"Are you frightened?" She smiled weakly, "you are, aren't you?" Her voice was no more than a whisper.

"Aislin, you cannot fall asleep. If you do you may not wake up. Do you understand? If you shut your eyes now, come dawn you may never open them again." Lancelot's voice was somewhat shaky as he held her to him, her breath warm on his face. "Your hands, they're icy." He pulled his leather woven tunic from his back revealing a soft black wool tunic beneath. "Here, wear this, it will keep you a little warmer." She sat with both of her legs on one side of the saddle trying to pull the warm tunic over her head.

"Would you miss me?" She asked plainly, in that frozen tone of hers.

"What?" His eyes gazed into hers, trying to read any hidden meaning within them.

"If I were to fall asleep and never wake up again. Would you miss me?" She gave him a moment to think and before he could speak his answer, she cut in. "No, don't answer that question. I don't think I want to know."

Aislin rested there in his arms, her head against his shoulder. She could hear his heart beating, and wondered why God had chosen now for her to fall in love, now when she was about to die. She could feel her life slipping from her; the cold was consuming her body and slowly freezing her soul inside her. Lancelot had reached over and took Ladiah's reigns to strap them to his horse's saddle when she began to feel the uneasiness of death latching onto her from the inside. She decided that she would take the leap and atleast die peacefully.

"It's ironic isn't it? How the one person I have spent the last ten years badgering and arguing with would be the man to hold me before I died… God must have a sense of humor… or is it that you _wanted_ to find me. To be the last person alone with me, or simply to be alone with me?"

He held her tighter, pulling her closer, "you're not going to die. You'll live on past this moment, past this day, and you'll find solace in some amazing home somewhere with a large family who loves you deeply."

Aislin smiled warmly, her eyes closing softly as she leaned towards him, her cool hands pulling his face down to hers. Their lips touched chastely at first, merely brushing across each other, then more passionately as they held each other as close as possible. Her lips were cold on his, adding to the chemistry of the long awaited kiss. The tension had subsided between them and a new form of emotion had blossomed to life in that instant.

Though, they were not the only ones to have witnessed such an overcome of obstacles, Tristan stood on the lower ridge of the northward hill, peering down at them. He knew that this moment was in fact inevitable; it had been since Lancelot first spoke of Aislin in that harsh childish tone. It had always been destined to occur, and now that it had things would change drastically. Things that may lead to terrible deeds and wrongs that would never have the chance to be righted. He saw this not through any vision, but through the knowledge of history and how it repeats onto future generations what the past has already learned. As for tonight, he let them alone, there was no point in disrupting something that was inevitable.

The kiss broke sweetly, the taste of him still lingering in Aislin's mouth. She laughed nervously, "it's not as if I'm expecting to live much longer." Her voice had become faint, as did her breathing. "I just," she peered up at him with those big green eyes that had begun to swell with useless tears. "I just wanted to know what it was like…" she had to find her breath and coughed slightly in pain. "I wanted to know what it was like to see the other side of you, to know how it felt to be… loved…" her voice trailed off as her body went limp in Lancelot's arms. He no longer could hear her breathing or see those beautifully sad eyes.

"Aislin?" The unnerved knight shook her to try and wake her from her lethal slumber. "AISLIN! AISLIN YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP!" But her body stayed in it's comatose state.


End file.
